


What We Could Become

by xDinahQueenx



Category: Avengers (Comic), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:37:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDinahQueenx/pseuds/xDinahQueenx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a close friend of his dies under suspicious circumstances, Steve Rogers creates an alter-ego with which to investigate the  accident and determine what really happened. What he discovers is more complicated than he could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Could Become

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Cap/Iron Man big bang. [What We Could Become [Art]](http://i733.photobucket.com/albums/ww337/legonightwing/The-Captain1.jpg)

It wasn't all clandestine meetings and secret telephone calls. Some things worked better when done face to face, and this particular case was certainly no exception. Leaving a paper trail wasn't the smartest idea, of course, but it was a little difficult to exchange blue prints over the phone. Going to warehouses in the middle of the night for secret drops seemed a little too dramatic for Obadiah Stane. So he had set up a meeting here, instead, a small coffee house about twelve blocks south of Stane Industries. He did not normally frequent this one and the atmosphere here was quite different than what he was used to. Instead of other businessmen, there were a lot of teenagers and college-aged people lingering about. There was a woman working on a shiny, presumably new, laptop. The next table over there was teenagers joking about something, though he hadn't caught what it was they'd been discussing. There was also a couple, sharing some sort of iced drink, staring longingly in to one another's eyes. Obadiah curled his fingers around the patterned mug he had been drinking his coffee in and looked out the window.

The name of the coffee shop was painted in big, bold, bubble letters and he could only see slices of the street through the gaps in the paint. There were cars trying to make it through the morning traffic and pedestrians milling about, hurrying down the streets with seemingly important things to be done. He was halfway finished with his mug of coffee, making theories about the couple arguing across the street, when the bell from over the door rang and the man he was waiting for entered the shop.

He was tall, with a strong jaw, perfectly styled blond hair, and cold blue eyes. His skin was pale but his cheeks were chapped red from the cold. Obadiah gave the man a grim smile. The man sat down across from him, withdrew a folder from the interior of his black woolen coat, and wordlessly slid it across the table. Obadiah took another sip from his coffee and then set it down to pick the file up. He thumbed through it and his smile widened.

"This is perfect," Obadiah said with a gleam in his eyes. The other man smiled back but it was obviously forced and it lacked warmth. Not that it surprised Obadiah, he wasn't much familiar with the man, but he didn't seem the type to smile very often. The man gave a one-shouldered shrug and folded his gloved hands on the tabletop.

"I had thought that you'd like that one," The man replied. There was a faint accent to his words but Obadiah couldn't place it. He wasn't that good with accents to begin with and this one was barely a hint lilting his words. Obadiah nodded slowly to his words as his eyes tracked over the technical specifications and the blueprints. He smoothed his finger over one of the lines and gave the other man an approving nod. He grabbed his cell phone and sent a quick message.

"This is excellent work," Obadiah praised, "Perhaps we can work together more in the future." Obadiah reached out and shook the other man's hand. The glove was cold, leather, but the other man's grip was firm. This fact pleased Obadiah; a strong handshake spoke things of someone's character. The man nodded to him in acknowledgment.

"Perhaps we can, Mr. Stane." The other man stood and withdrew his phone, dialing a number and pressing it to his ear. Obadiah figured he was calling his own bank to ensure the deposit for his services. Obadiah tucked the folder in to his briefcase and picked up his coffee to finish it.

With Tony Stark out of the picture, and these design specs, things were going to start turning around for him very soon.

* * *

Jovan smoothed out the creases on his lab coat as he walked down the hall and towards the cafeteria. Though Jovan worked in the building across the parking lot, he preferred the cafeteria in the main building. His colleagues were suspicious, paranoid people and eating lunch with them was not always a pleasant experience. Most of the people who worked in the main building were office personnel. The marketing division, design, public relations... those were the types of employees in the main building. Very different from the scientists he generally worked with.

It would be too difficult to find the person he needed if he were to look in the community board in the building he worked in. This one was more ripe for the picking however. In between the offers to sell pets, the motivational notes, and the flyer about a Fourth of July picnic that was at least four months old, he found what he was looking for. It had yesterday's date written in the corner, and it looked hastily written. There wasn't a lot of information on it either; but the general feeling of the note reeked of desperation, and Jovan's mouth twisted in to a cold smile.

It would be perfect. He took the flyer with him, folding it and tucking it in to his pocket. The number was burning a hole in his pocket, but he sat through lunch with a pretty, dark-haired woman from public relations, who told him about the difficulties of keeping good press... first with Tony Stark's outrageous lifestyle, and now, with Tony Stark's disappearance, and the interim CEOs refusal to budge on her investigation in to where he wound up.

Jovan made all of the polite noises and pretended to be interested, but he honestly couldn't care less about the billionaire who'd gone missing in Afghanistan. Jovan was not a compassionate man and he never had been. He was excellent at pretending. He managed to go without mentioning that he worked in the weapons division, and left the cafeteria with the woman, who asked him if he'd like to get lunch together again some time.

He agreed with no real intention of eating with her again.

When he returned to his office, he dialed the number, and while it rang, he re-read the flyer.

 _Looking for roommate, no smokers, pets up for discussion. Half-rent/utilities. Call for more details._.

The handwriting was neat and even, no hesitation. The person advertising answered the phone on the fourth ring. The man on the other end had a warm voice. He seemed very nice and though he was in the middle of working, he set up a meeting with Jovan for that date, to show him the place.

Jovan agreed of course and got the address. As soon as he hung up, he looked the address up and saw how close it was to the office, and he nodded. He spent the rest of the day trying to rework the shell casings on a weapon, so that they no longer melted when the weapon fired, and rendered the weapon useless. It made the day go by incredibly fast with a breakthrough in what might have been going wrong. He clocked out and headed for the designated meeting place.

Jovan was surprised when he saw the man who he'd spoken to on the phone. He was only slightly taller than Jovan, but he was much wider. His shoulders were almost twice the width of Jovan's own, and the dress shirt he was wearing (no tie, the top two buttons undone) did little to hide the muscle on his body. There was a faint hint of metal through the white dress shirt. While he didn't seem nervous, Jovan noticed he was twisting a ring on his right hand ring finger.

It was a class ring, inset with a red gem. It was large, traditional done in some light metal- silver or white gold. His fingers obscured the year and school name, mostly, but Jovan decided it wasn't that important anyways. Though he did wonder.

"Steve?" Jovan inquired, just to make sure, and the man smiled brightly at him and held his hand out. Yale University, and he was sure his degree was in art, he'd mentioned on the phone he was in advertising.

"Hey, you must be Jovan." Jovan smiled at him and nodded in agreement, "It's nice to meet you. Alright, so, half the rent will be about six-hundred dollars, but it's a nice apartment. Balcony, I cleared the office out so you could have a room of your own." Steve smiled and then beckoned him to follow.

The apartment was on the third floor and the balcony had a few plastic chairs on it. There was a potted plant sitting just inside, probably pulled in to prevent it from frosting over while the winter blew in. Steve showed him the room he'd have. It walls were white with beige carpet and a window that overlooked the street below.

"I could make the rent myself," Steve said, "But I think it's more economical this way. Electricity and heating are included. I have cable and internet, but I'll keep paying for that since it's in my name anyways." Steve was standing in 'at ease' position, feet spaced apart and hands behind his back. Jovan nodded a little.

"Rent is due at the first of the month, so I've already paid it." Jovan smiled at Steve. The room was fairly large and it looked clean, except for a smear of blue paint on the floor. "This was where I had my art studio, but I moved that in to my bedroom." He pushed open the door to show him.

It was a bit in disarray, but like the note, Jovan figured it was because this hadn't been something he'd been expecting. He finished the tour, showing him the bathroom and the kitchen, and everything else. The place was neatly kept, well decorated, and the location was perfect. Steve still had his company badge clipped to his belt, and Jovan smiled wider.

Absolutely perfect.

"This looks great. And it's close to work," Jovan said. Steve grinned.

"One of the reasons I chose it." Jovan looked around the apartment once more.

"Do you have other people you're showing it to?"

"No, you're the only one who called." Steve smiled again, wide and friendly. Jovan smiled back.

"Great, when can I move in?" Steve looked surprised.

"You don't need time to think about it?" Jovan shook his head.

"No, it's perfect," Jovan told him, "And I'm sort of looking for a place as soon as possible." Steve nodded in understanding.

"Alright, well..." Steve rubbed his hand over his chin and looked thoughtful. "I'll be out of town this weekend, but I have more vacation time, so I could take a few days off of work to get you settled in."

"That sounds great," Jovan said, he smiled, "How about dinner to celebrate?" Steve grinned.

"Let me get my coat."

* * *

Steve tossed his wallet and keys on the table and headed in to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water, and checking in to see what he might want to have for dinner. The day had been unremarkable, but he felt more tired than he ought to, and didn't feel like making anything. He wound up fixing a ham sandwich, and then kicking back on the couch.

He settled in, feet propped up on the coffee table, and he clicked the television on. He turned to one of the local stations, which was showing re-runs of some popular sitcom that Steve didn't watch very often. He'd caught a few episodes and found it marginally humorous. He kept it on as background noise and ate his sandwich, before leaning over and grabbing a drawing pad from the side table, and a pencil.

Steve had a project for work, designing some merchandise prints for key chains and insulated coffee mugs, for important visitors to the building. The logo was easy enough to draw, that hadn't changed since he'd begun working at Stark International... over two years ago when he'd gotten an unpaid internship for his design classes. But he wasn't sure what to accent it with.

As it was, he was just sketching preliminary designs, a few things and then the head of marketing would have a few choices... he'd found that she preferred that. It was generally not a hardship, but when he was having troubles with making one design, making multiples seemed like a daunting task. He frowned a little and crossed out the first preliminary design, and started on another one.

He focused entirely on his drawing pad, the sounds of the television fading in to the background as he worked. In fact, he probably could have completed at least one of the designs, except the dramatic sound bite that indicated breaking news broke him from his reverie. He looked up and the ticker at the bottom surprised him.

 _Anthony Edward Stark, CEO of Stark International, Found!_

Steve turned the volume up on the television.

 _"... passed over a lone figure walking through the desert. Upon closer look, they discovered that it was Tony Stark, billionaire industrialist, who'd gone missing a few months prior after an unfortunate incident during a weapons demonstration in Afghanistan. We've gotten news that he's on his way back to the states, but acting CEO Virginia 'Pepper' Potts and the man responsible for the discovery, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes refused to comment on the rescue mission."_ The reporter then introduced their field correspondent, who was at the airport.

There was a flurry of motion on the cameras and Steve found himself leaning forward, as the correspondent discussed the airport for a bit, until an incoming airplane drowned out the sound. Steve bit his lip, recognizing the Stark International logo on the side of the plane, as it rolled to a stop not far from where the reporter was making his broadcast. He jogged over as they released the hatch.

There wasn't much to be said, though. Tony Stark declined to comment and Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes shooed the news cameras away, even as Pepper Potts entered the picture. Steve watched Rhodes wrap an arm beneath Tony's armpits and hold him up, while the reporters voices mingled with one another, to the point where he could barely hear Tony's cracked, scratchy voice saying- "No comment."

It went back to the newsroom with rampant speculation. But Steve just sat there, stunned. Even though Pepper had kept looking, there was news in the company newsletter that someone from corporate sent to all employees' e-mails about the ongoing search, there had been a few memorial services after the first month.

People had said the company would go under if Stark wasn't found, but the newsletter had always been optimistic. He supposed it was because most of the people, not Pepper, were convinced that Tony had died. It was a logical conclusion.

After all, Steve knew the conditions over there, better than many other people. Steve had served a tour of duty in Afghanistan, when the war was newer. It had been hellish. He felt for Tony Stark, he really did. Steve turned the news off after a moment, but he couldn't return to concentrating on his drawing.

He was curious as to how Stark had survived and he pursed his lips. He supposed it didn't matter, really, he was just relieved. He didn't feel anything in particular for Stark, but it was always a blessing when someone, no matter who they were, came home safe.

* * *

Tony was still bandaged up, since he'd come right from the airport, to this press conference that he'd had Pepper set up for as soon as he returned to the states. Happy had been at the airport to take them there... himself and Obadiah and Pepper. Obie had had his own car, but he had wanted to drive with Tony and make sure he was okay. Tony wasn't okay, of course, but he was doing a good job pretending.

His movements were languid, he had drank quite a bit on the plane. Not as much as usual to get him drunk,  
but going three months without any kind of alcohol at all had lowered his tolerance significantly. He had forced Happy to stop on the way to the building so that he could buy some food. He was starving, he'd barely been fed, but even if he had... he needed something to remind him that he was home, definitively.

Pepper had gone in to the restaurant to get it and Tony hadn't cared about being polite, as he took it out of it's Styrofoam take-out container and ate it without offering any of it to anyone else. He even kept eating it as he'd stepped out of the car, and through the makeshift aisle the reporters had made, still telling them no comment.

 

His voice was a little better now. The water he'd been drinking steadily had helped clear out some of the parched feeling in his throat, and let him feeling a little more on an even keel. Not exactly, because his head was swimming with the alcohol and maybe a concussion.

He had lived but he wondered if death would have been easier. He had no clue what he was going to say to these people either. As he wove through the throng of reporters, Happy keeping people at bay, and Pepper stationing herself in the back. It almost felt normal. For a few moments, Tony stared at the podium and instead, he turned and sat down, leaning against one of the support pillars and eating his hamburger.

The reporters were mostly behaving, being quiet, and waiting for him to say what he was going to say. He waved his hand a little and beckoned them all to sit down. He saw their looks at him, like he was being strange. He thought he had a right to want to sit down. To not want to look up at people, because the idea of being down here while everyone else was up there was almost nauseating.

The next bite of his hamburger tasted like ash in his mouth. He smelled fire and he thought about Yinsen. He tightly closed his eyes for a moment and breathed. He was drunk, he was _traumatized_ , they couldn't really expect him to be... eloquent. He finished his hamburger, even though it tasted like failure. Tony watched the reporters sit down.

Tony wasn't sure what he'd meant to say at this press conference. But suddenly, he knew what he _needed_ to say. He wiped the grease from the hamburger and the sweat from his palms on his pants, and then tipped his head back, resting it against the pillar.

"You know, I never got to say goodbye to my father," Tony said. His words were slow, carefully enunciated, in a way that made them seem carefully chosen. "There's questions I would have asked him. I would've asked him how he felt about what his company did, if he was conflicted, if he ever had doubts." Tony frowned and then scoffed.

"Or maybe he was every inch of man we remember from the newsreels. I saw young Americans killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them. And I saw that _I_ had become part of a system that is comfortable with zero-accountability." Tony shook his head, a frown tugging at his lips.

"Mr. Stark!" A young reporter called out and Tony turned his gaze to him. "What happened over there?" He asked. Tony was quiet for a moment, a stretch of time that seemed eternal. Obadiah was right next to him. Pepper and Rhodey were looking expectant. The reporters reminded him of vultures, like he was going to soon be the next kill. But instead, Tony raised his chin, and felt something like defiance make its way through the alcohol haze.

"I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I had more to offer this world than just making things that blow up. And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International." Tony pushed himself to his feet.

"That's all," Tony said, favoring them all with a bright grin, and he had Happy clear the way for him again, as he ignored the questions that followed in his wake.

* * *

News of Tony Stark's decision to shut the weapons division down was something of a surprise to the people, especially the shareholders on the board, and to the people who worked for that particular division. The news of it spread like wildfire. It was all that the news networks seemed to be talking about and most of what the e-mails in Jovan's inbox wanted to talk about as well. Jovan could feel Steve's presence, hovering nearby.

He quickly closed out the e-mail he'd been working on. He turned in his seat to peer at Steve, his brow raising in silent question. It looked like he wanted to talk. He seemed almost nervous, his stance suggesting that whatever conversation they were about to have, it was going to be awkward.

 

"Jovan, do you have a moment?" Steve finally asked. Jovan nodded a little and wondered what he wanted. Scenarios danced in his head. But he didn't let most of them take firm hold, he just waited, cool blue eyes fixed on Steve's face.

"Of course, Steve," Jovan replied, gesturing with his hand to sit with him. Steve perched on the edge of Jovan's bed and fiddled with some of the loose threads on the seams. Jovan watched intently, wondering just what was going on here. Steve seemed to be steeling himself for something.

"Look, I know that you'll probably find something soon, a job. Because you have work experience and I'm sure you've got good references," Steve started and Jovan looked more intrigued. He wondered if maybe Steve was kicking him out.

"But I know finding a job isn't always easy so just... don't worry about anything. I've got some extra and I can keep us on the level while you search for something new," Steve said. He raised both hands in a defensive gesture. "It's just something to keep in mind." He didn't wait for Jovan to respond.

Jovan was more than a little surprised by the offer. It made him smile and a plan began to form in his head. He finished the e-mail he'd been writing and sent it. It wasn't of anything of real important, just asking after an old professor who had been quite instrumental in his development.

Jovan waited until he heard the sound of a door closing and he knew Steve had retreated to his own room. He picked up his cell phone and flipped it open, dialing a number he couldn't save in his contacts, but he knew by heart. Someone answered on the second ring.

"Mr. Stane," Jovan said with a wide smile, "I have given some thought to us doing business together once more and I have something of a business proposal for you." He paused while he waited for Stane to reply and he nodded a little, grabbing a pen and writing down the address Stane gave him.

"Yes, I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes," Jovan promised. He snapped the phone shut and stood, tucking the device in to his pocket. He stopped by Steve's room, knocking on the wooden frame.

"Come in!" Steve called out cheerfully. Jovan opened the door and leaned on the doorframe. Steve's room was neat, with a few photos of family and friends, except for the mess that still made up his art studio part of the room. Jovan smiled.

"I think your offer is very generous and I'd be a fool not to take it," Jovan said and he watched as Steve relaxed and smiled back at him. "In fact, I thought I'd get an early start on job hunting, strike while the iron is hot and before they snatch up all of the other soon-to-be unemployed workers in my department." It was difficult to keep the bitterness of those words a secret.

"That's a great idea," Steve said, in an earnest manner. Jovan nodded a little.

"I'm going to go now," Jovan explained. He didn't joke with Steve today like he usually would. Today, he was a man on a mission. One that was going to make him rich.

* * *

Steve stepped out of his apartment and pulled the door shut tight behind him. He drew his keys from his pocket and spun them on his index finger, while holding the strap of his bag on his shoulder with the other hand. He pushed open the door at the end of the hall that led from the apartment building to the attached parking garage. He had parked his car a little ways away from the door and he headed for his vehicle.

The blue Pontiac Aztek with a small American flag decal on the back window was parked where it always was. Steve opened the back end and threw his bag in there, when a familiar voice made his ears prick. He turned but the shadows partially obscured them. The lights in the garage were dim to begin with and the ones that they were standing under had been busted. One man was tall, somewhat heavyset, balding, but Steve couldn't see his face, at least not any distinguishing features.

But even in the dimmed lights, Steve recognized Jovan, and while he couldn't make out everything that was being said, their words were definitely heated. He was paused, the trunk of his car open, and trying to be unobtrusive as he listened to the unfamiliar figure. Most of his words were low, but he distinctly heard something about a warning, and how unfortunate things would become for Jovan if he didn't deliver.

It made Steve wonder what sort of people Jovan had been dealing with. Steve had a hockey stick in the back of his car and while he didn't think he would have to use it on anyone, he gripped it tightly, to use as a weapon, if he _had_ to. He turned to head over there, he'd be casual about it, ask Jovan if he was up for a game of street hockey. But just as he'd made one step towards them, Jovan had turned and stalked to the doors. And the other man disappeared in to the shadows, ducking in to one of the exits that led to the streets.

Steve frowned and set the hockey stick back in his trunk. He thought about calling the police, but there wasn't really anything he could say. He couldn't identify who had been threatening Jovan... and if his friend was dealing in less than 'on the level' business, he wanted to talk him out of it, before he got the police involved and possibly investigating.

There weren't many options and by the time Steve had thought to follow the man, he couldn't spot even the vague characteristics he had seen with any of the people still out on the open on the street. Frowning, internally berating himself for not thinking quicker, he headed back to the car. He did still have to turn up for work. His division hadn't gotten shut down.

Steve worried about Jovan most of the day, something about the fight wasn't sitting right with him. There was something familiar about the other man that Steve kept having fleeting thoughts of, but couldn't quite place, like he'd seen that silhouette before. Those characteristics- but a slightly heavyset balding man could be anyone. It could be the guy in accounting or his sometimes design partner who wasn't much older than Steve but was already losing his hair.

The fact of the matter was, the whole thing had been odd, and Steve felt like he hadn't made the right decision. He'd missed the moment to actually do something about what had happened. He focused half-heartedly on his work, while he made the decision to question Jovan tonight, if he didn't want to talk about it, Steve would have to tell him if he didn't, he was going to call the police. It was the best he could do.

Jovan had said he'd been out looking for work, so it didn't actually surprise Steve, overmuch, when he returned home that evening and Jovan wasn't there. He ate a frozen dinner and dozed off watching some ridiculous sitcom, until the sound of someone knocking roused him from his nap. He yawned and headed to the door. And he was really surprised to see Sharon Carter standing there.

"Sharon?" Steve was surprised to see her. Her mouth was pressed in to a thin line, police badge clipped to her belt, and her partner lingering back a few steps- arms crossed over his chest. He was intimidating, Steve didn't know who he was though. Sharon sighed quietly.

"I'm sorry, Steve," She said quietly to him. Steve was confused, his brows raised and he waited. "There was an accident at Stark International's weapons lab, and I'm here to inform you that your friend, Jovan Shani, perished in the incident. I'm so sorry for your loss."

Steve stood there in stunned silence, as Sharon told him how they hadn't found a body, but that there had been a host of volatile substances, some of which had been improperly stored. But all Steve could think about was the fight he'd witnessed earlier. He'd never heard when the deadline was. In his gut, however, he was convinced it wasn't an accident.

* * *

Tony knew he should have taken some more time to recover, but he felt a little stir crazy, so he'd taken back the reins of his company as soon as he could. He was drinking a scotch that he'd found in his office, and paging through reports. He was regretting his decision to come back to work however, as this was somewhat boring. The reports were dry, giving valuable information, but nothing that was especially interesting.

Something caught his eye, however. It was the cataloguing of the inventory from the weapons lab in the New York satellite. It was a comparison of what they'd gone in with, what they'd developed, what had been sold, and what was still in inventory. But things weren't adding up exactly right. They were missing things that hadn't been sold.

This was exactly the sort of thing that he'd been worried about since his announcement. Though, to be fair, he thought it'd be more people breaking in and stealing things. But there hadn't been any news about it, which was curious, and somewhat frustrating. It meant that something was going on.

Some of the things that had been taken were very dangerous. Things that Tony had almost been slightly ashamed to admit that they'd had in development. Nanite technology to emulate chemical and biological warfare. Weapons that could level entire cities and make sure nothing was left standing. Tony had built his reputation on being the guy who made weapons you only had to fire once.

But this was unsettling. The only light at the end of the tunnel was the fact that the things that had been taken were primarily weapons research and that they had some time to figure out who the culprits might be before they could start producing them. Some prototypes were missing. Coupled with the e-mail he'd gotten earlier about an incident involving the same weapons labs things were going missing from. Tony picked up his cell phone and texted Happy to get the car ready and call down to the airfield.

It appeared he would be going to New York.

* * *

The weapons lab at Stark International was cordoned off with police tape, but instead of crime scene tape, it was just a police line, do not cross. Clint was almost one-hundred percent sure that the tape had more to do with not knowing what type of dangerous things were lurking, than any actual investigation. The news had covered it pretty thoroughly, citing unsafe storage procedures and unattended lab equipment as the cause for the explosion. At least it provided easy access, and Clint ducked beneath the yellow tape and through the hole that the explosion had caused in the side of the building.

To be fair, Clint wasn't sure how he'd gotten involved with all of this. First, he'd been attempting to help a woman with a purse snatcher, then the police had started to run him down, and a mysterious man in an expensive business suit had rescued him from the pursuit, and offered him a small job.

It seemed harmless enough, too. Just going to some locations in the laboratory and picking up some files that had been stored there, that were no longer accessible due to the weapons developers having had to turn in their key cards on that final day when the doors had been officially closed. The price he was being offered was more than Clint had seen at one time, so he was certainly not turning down the offer.

It didn't seem entirely legal, but the man had assured him the research was his own and it'd just been left behind, due to the sudden nature of Tony Stark's announcement of the closure. Clint wasn't entirely trusting of the man, but he didn't ask too many questions when the level of work versus the level of pay had that much disparity. Besides, the man had rescued him from the police.

Inside the building, it smelled like an accelerant, acrid and smoky, with a sickly smell of burnt chemicals lingering in the air. Clint pulled his jacket up over his nose and frowned behind the cloth, wondering just what the hell had happened here. Of course, all of those smells were probably natural in a weapons lab explosion. Clint put his bow around his arm, and looked at the sheet of paper that was a crude hand drawn map with engineers handwriting detailing where things were hidden.

 

He studied it, tucked it back into his pocket and moved on. He managed to snag one of the pieces of research, a thick project folder that he found hidden in an air vent, before the night watchmen started to unlock the doors to the lab and do his rounds. Clint hurried out the way he'd come in and towards the designated meeting spot. He was paid only a small amount of what had been promised, with the assurance that when he brought the rest, he'd get the rest of the money.

Clint wasn't completely unobservant, however, and something bothered him. The hand that Clint had shaken upon getting this idea in action hadn't exactly felt like the hands of someone who made weapons. There was no scarring, no burns from accidents, no working callouses. It was possible that he had the marks of his work on his other hand, but most people tended towards shaking with their dominant hands. He tried not to let it bother him too much though.

He returned to the weapons lab the next night to secure more of the hidden research, and collect more money. Each time he left when he heard the night watchman coming in to do his rounds. Tonight, he was in a corner of the room, trying to move a rather heavy bookcase, where he'd seen the edges of the folder, but accidentally knocked it back too far behind the case.

He was so focused on that, he didn't even know someone had approached him until he felt his arm being wrenched behind his back, and heard his bow being tossed away. He thought it was the night watchman, but he seemed too strong for just that, fingertips digging in to his elbow. The man wrenched him backwards, away from the bookshelf.

"You're trespassing," A voice said, low and urgent. He didn't sound angry, perhaps concerned. Clint tried to wrest his arm away and whoever was holding him let go. Clint turned to face his attacker, pulling a gun from where it'd been tucked in to the front of his pants.

The man was tall and well built, with wide shoulders. But he definitely wasn't a security guard. Instead of the polyester, pseudo-cop uniform, the man was dressed... oddly. Wearing a pair of khaki cargo pants, a blue hooded track jacket with red and white stripe up the sleeves, and a makeshift mask. He appeared to be unarmed, but he also didn't appear to feel threatened by Clint's gun.

He remembered seeing the man on the news, which was why he looked familiar. Some choppy video from a cell phone of him stopping a thug from beating up a couple, the man had taken the video and thanked him profusely, even while the cops said vigilantism was illegal and that there was a warrant for his arrest.

He wondered why he was here.

"Maybe I'm supposed to be here," Clint said, voice not wavering. The man frowned and shook his head.

"I don't think so."

"I will shoot you."

"I don't think you'll do that either." The man sounded so sure of himself that Clint wondered if he had a death wish. But he was being paid to gather things, not kill anyone, and despite the questionable legality of this activity, he wasn't going to _murder_ someone. Clint scowled at him. They called him _The Captain_ , not that Clint had any idea why.

"What makes you so sure?"

"You don't look like a murderer, actually, you don't look like much of a criminal at all," The Captain said and he crossed his arms over his chest, and he was frowning. Clint wasn't a criminal he was just... he wasn't sure what this was. He was retrieving, though the more he thought about it, the more he realized that that research might not actually belong to the man who was paying him. Clint didn't lower his weapon though.

"What're you doing here?" Clint asked instead, classic misdirection.

"A friend of mine died in this explosion and I have a very strong feeling it wasn't an accident," The Captain explained, his frown deepening. Clint looked around at the lab to try and see any obvious signs of foul play. There wasn't any and he was willing to bet that The Captain was just blinded by his own grief at the loss of his friends.

Clint lowered the gun anyways. The Captain was right about one thing, he wasn't a criminal.

"Let me help," Clint said, he could at least be objective. He'd already figured that no matter what he did, he wouldn't be getting his payday for this. The Captain was looking at the bookshelf that Clint had been trying to move and Clint nodded.

"There's something behind there, papers," Clint explained and The Captain nodded.

"Well, let's figure out what they are, shall we?"

* * *

Tony stepped out of the car and peered up at the Stark International satellite office in New York. It'd been a long time since he'd set foot in these halls, and he wasn't exactly steeling his nerves, he wasn't entirely comfortable with stepping inside. The satellite in New York had always been his father's preferred place. He had a family home here, which hadn't changed decorations in the years since his father had passed, and only kept the dust at bay by the talents of a highly paid cleaning staff. Of course, Tony couldn't really afford extraneous spending, so he was staying in the family home while he was in New York.

Tony forced himself through the doors and headed straight for where his father's old office was. He was going to set up base there, and see what he could figure out about the weapons research and prototypes that had gone missing in the days before the explosion. He knew there couldn't have been unsafe storing procedures. Stark International NY had had its inspection not more than a month ago.

And they were up on all of their OSHA standards, Pepper had told them they'd gotten great scores across the board. Their employees' safety was a number one concern at SI, and unlike other companies where that was just lip service, Tony had meant it, and had done his best. He took a brief detour down to the weapons lab, and assessed the damage.

It was brutal. A hole in the wall, things blacked over and charred. He squinted at the scene and noticed some things were untouched... the bookcase, even though it was right next to where the fire was supposed to have originated, an air vent on the other side of the room, where the walls were blackened on both sides. Almost like...

Tony struggled to think of someone who would have done something like that, but for now he was filing it under coincidence. He didn't really believe that it was, because he didn't believe in things like this. But there probably wasn't anything going on. Except the thieving was pretty damning evidence, and a fire could have been used to cover someone's tracks.

Someone had died in the fire, so it was a possibility that he'd figured something out and had been killed to cover it up. And the explosion, the fire, it was all planned to cover up a murder. That seemed a little far-fetched, though, like something out of a ridiculous crime show. Tony shut the door to the lab and headed towards the elevator once more.

The assistant that had been assigned to him was young and dark headed and male, but it was only temporary, so Tony wasn't too bothered by it. He gathered up his agenda for the day which Pepper had forwarded and slipped into the office. All of that could wait, except the conference call which was on a time schedule, because he wasn't here to do business as usual. Someone was stealing his weapon's technology, and someone had probably engineered an explosion in his weapons lab.

 

When he thought about it, that hole in the wall was pretty suspicious. He pulled up room layout schematics on his laptop and while it was loading, there was a knock on the door, and his assistant came in, followed by a familiar and somewhat welcome figure. Obadiah Stane.

He had been a family friend for ages, but he was certainly surprised to see him. He hadn't spoke to Obadiah in person since his father's funeral. He stood from his chair quickly and headed over to Obie, dismissing the assistant with a wave. "Obie!" Tony greeted, effusively.

"Anthony." Obadiah moved closer and shook Tony's hand warmly, then pulled him in to a tight embrace. Tony could feel the bandages shifting over the reactor in an uncomfortable way. And he suddenly had the bright idea to show Obadiah it. Of course, he knew that he'd known about the project; Tony had a fantastic memory and could remember when he was a child, Obadiah and Howard discussing it over drinks. He was usually kicked out of the study before too long, but he'd caught a glimpse or two.

"I couldn't believe it when I saw you were alive," Obadiah said, once they'd parted, and Tony leaned against the desk, which was heavy and antique. He butted his hip against the edge and studied Obadiah. He reached up and started to undo his tie, and Obadiah raised a brow.

"Energy," Tony told him, "That's going to be the future of SI. Energy. I did what my old man couldn't and it's going to change everything." He undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it open. He pulled the undershirt up and started to take off the bandages, peeling the tape back. The reactor glowed brightly and Obadiah's gaze dropped to it.

"My old man couldn't do it, but I did," Tony said, "I made it smaller. It's an energy source, it's clean, it's going to be the next big thing. Think of the things Stark International can do with this. It needs work, it's too volatile to release in something like cars... but I'm going to get my top people on it." Tony was grinning, smiling so wide it was hurting, because this was exciting. A new direction.

And there was his little side project, though that was a little more secretive and no one needed to know about that, not yet. He started to do his shirt back up, even though the cloth would irritate the reactor without the bandage over it. Obadiah's expression was somewhat surprised, but interested too, and Tony nodded to him.

"Just think of what we can do," Tony said. He was optimistic, hopeful for the future for the first time in what seemed like a long time. Stark International wasn't going to think about killing people, they were thinking in a new direction.

"Tony, think of the applications of this, do you know how much the military-" Tony's expression went icy and he cut Obadiah off.

"I'm not even going to think about that," Tony said sharply, "That's not what Stark International is about anymore." He squared his jaw, raising his chin fractionally.

"Like I said, we're out of the weapons business."

* * *

"I didn't think you were going to be able to get these," Obadiah said, sounding pleased, before hanging up the phone. He spread the blueprints out along the large table, and traced the curved line on the outer edge of the design. It was just a copy, not the originals, but Obadiah had seen the original, and he knew it was spot on. He moved his finger down, over the edges of the paper where the names were. _Arc Reactor_. Obadiah actually smiled and he folded the paper back up. He tucked the phone closer to his ear and listened while he was told the details on how he'd gotten it done.

Not that Obadiah cared about the details much, just that he was glad that he'd gotten them. He could bring these designs to his team immediately. After all, if Tony Stark could build one that worked in the middle of a dirty, filthy cave in Afghanistan, than surely a fully stocked and hand-picked team could do the same in a better working environment.

This was working out better than Obadiah had planned. The Ten Rings had screwed up, not killing Stark. They could have ended it, even if they'd messed up with the car bombing. The weapons that Obadiah had given them weren't enough, it seemed, and they'd kept Tony around to make a weapon, and now he was back. This was galling, Obadiah had paid money and given a lot of weapons to get him out of the picture, to swoop in and buy SI and all of its proprietary technologies. Him being back put a serious damper on Obadiah's plans... but not for long.

He'd already planted the seeds about SI's unsafe storing procedures at the New York satellite. Sooner or later, he'd have someone go and mess things up other places, and if a few people got hurt along the way... that was no problem. Plus, if SI wasn't making weapons, they couldn't really contend. They'd be bankrupt soon and Obadiah could make his purchase like that.

It was one upside to Tony being alive, he'd love to see the precocious little brat's face when Obadiah was the one to buy out his company, reverse his no weapons policy, and turn SI back in to the high dollar weapon producer that it had been... under Howard and Tony. But the arc reactor had changed things.

Stark had certainly been right, the arc reactor could be the future of Stark International. Tony had mentioned there was still testing to do, however, and ways to make it safe. Which was fine, if Stark and his new 'no weapons' policy wanted to make house generators and cars that ran on that technology. But Obadiah saw it for what it was... a weapon. And he was going to market it to the government before Stark got the chance.

The patent was Howard's, of course, but changing a few things... he could probably get it through. He needed to figure out just how to do it. But that would come when he got the designs to his people. He tucked the paper in to a manila folder and headed out to the car that was waiting.

* * *

Tony was reading the news and it wasn't making him very happy, especially not with the possibility of a theft from the lab. Now that inventory was getting to the point where they were looking closer, someone had noticed quite a bit of research notes had gone missing and not just half-working prototypes like the initial inventory had suggested. And the night before, there was actually an alert set off, someone had been hacking in to the system computers. There'd been some information downloaded, which was worrying, and had Tony feeling very paranoid, and victimized. Or, at the very least, someone was targeting him. But he couldn't figure out who it was.

The news he was reading was a weapons test gone wrong somewhere, that was bearing the Stark International logo, that had killed at least four people in the town nearby where the testing had been going on. There shouldn't have been any weapon testing going on, but people were just citing that Tony Stark was a liar, and they should have expected his no weapons speech had been lip service to... something.

With a heavy heart, Tony had removed all of the Iron Man designs off of the computer, on to a secure flash drive, and tucked away into a secured vault. Because as much as he wanted to work on that project, it was too risky, whoever was breaking in to their systems and stealing their research was too good for Tony to feel comfortable having even remnants of the design on some system. Especially after this recent news.

That would also explain why his phone was ringing almost off the hook. So now, he had to figure out what was going on. So far, all he'd figured out was that the weapon that had been released was a similar one that had been compromised during the explosion. A team had been working on it, Jovan Shani and Heinrich Zemo. Jovan, Tony learned, had been the employee who'd died in the explosion.

That left Heinrich and... a suspicious flag on another man, Steve Rogers, who had been accessing the weapons lab after it had closed, even though he was in his marketing and design department. Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration and wondered how no one had noticed this before. The times logged were often late, too. Did Rogers think that just because the weapons lab had shut down that the electronic locks wouldn't still log the people who went in?

It was a shame, really, since it seemed like Rogers had a good work ethic. Had never missed a day, had interned here at SI before securing a job, had quite a few good ideas credited to him through the marketing teams. His salary was nice, he'd recently gotten a raise. The personnel file on him mentioned his military service, how he always received stellar performance reviews, and the background check revealed no criminal record. Tony supposed that being a criminal took all kinds though.

He wrote down their names and then went searching for Heinrich. He had quickly gotten a job over at Hammer Industries, but maybe he wanted the proprietary research so that he could make a good impression on Justin Hammer. He rubbed at the back of his neck in frustration and then ran a hand through his hair. He called Heinrich on the phone to discuss his whereabouts, but he was actually solid as far as having an alibi.

According to Heinrich, and Tony checked it out, he'd been sent to a two week seminar in Italy as a pre-requisite for being hired on full time at Hammer Industries. He did seem sincerely upset about what had happened to Jovan as well, when Tony mentioned that, and he said he'd seen it on the news. That just left Rogers, which was disappointing... considering that everything pointed to him being an upstanding and valued employee.

Still, Tony wasn't going to let that cloud his judgment. Because if things were going to go like that, then it was best to cut this off before it got even worse. Already there'd been five deaths attributed to this weapons stealing business, and Tony couldn't afford it getting worse. He couldn't afford what had already happened, the shareholders were already getting nervous and Tony wasn't seeing the brightest of futures right now. Though the good thing was that his designs, the ones for the Iron Man, could possibly be designed for medical uses.

He called Rogers into his office, since he saw that he was on the clock. It didn't take him long to arrive, and his temporary assistant led Steve in. He was tall, especially compared to Tony, broad shouldered, and he smiled at Tony nervously as Tony gestured for him to sit.

"So, Mr. Rogers..." Tony started, then frowned, "Can I call you Steve?" He asked. Steve nodded a little and Tony noticed he looked a little tired, but that could be because of illegal weapon testing that resulted in the deaths of some people. He clenched his jaw and frowned even more.

"Late night?" Tony asked, flipping open a folder and paging through it some more, trying to find _anything_ to suggest that Rogers might have done something like this. Steve seemed a little uncomfortable by the question though, he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"A little bit," Steve said with a small smile, "A friend and I were trying to figure something out, and before you know it, it's already about three in the morning and you have to be up for work in four hours." Steve smiled at Tony, it wasn't fake. But his response was awfully vague.

"I see," Tony said and he read through the file some more, Steve had apparently been in some sort of special operatives group, but was highly classified, as to the name and their purpose except the very uninformative 'counter-terrorism' description. He paused when he saw that Steve had been in Afghanistan. He frowned more.

"Mr. Stark," Steve suddenly said, and he seemed nervous, "Is there something I can do for you? They wouldn't tell me why you called me up here." Steve gave him a quick smile. Tony closed the folder and tapped a few keys in to his computer.

"There were some thefts from the lab, Steve, after the weapons division closed down," Tony started, moving to look Steve right in the eyes, "And while on paper you appear to be an upstanding employee, the evidence is stacked against you in this case. I can't be entirely sure when things were being stolen, but there's several incidents where your key-card was used to access the weapons lab after hours and after it was closed down." Tony's voice was firm, but he watched as genuine surprise flicked over Steve's features.

Steve could just be a very good actor.

"Sir," Steve said, frowning, "I've never set foot in the weapons lab. I work in marketing." Steve explained, folding his hands on his lap. Tony nodded.

"Yeah, it's all in your personnel file here. But we can clear this up." For a certain definition of 'clearing up' because if Steve hadn't been the one using his key-card, he wasn't exactly sure where that left him. He had the dates pulled up and he questioned Steve on his whereabouts.

And as Steve explained where he'd been, Tony patiently wrote down the locations at the specified times, and made a not to call them. Tony frowned a little and then folded his hands atop his desk.

"Steve, I'm going to ask you to go home early today, and that you're on a forced vacation until I can verify your story and check out what you've told me." Steve looked upset, but Tony needed to make sure that it hadn't been him. And then question him about who might have had access to his key-card if it hadn't.

"Yes, sir," Steve said reluctantly and Tony gave him a sort of dismissive nod. Steve rose and headed for the door.

"Oh, Steve?" Tony said and Steve turned back towards him, "If I see any record of your key-card being used here until I call you back in, I am going to have you arrested." Steve nodded in understanding, frowning a little more, before heading out. Tony got the numbers from the locations Steve had given him, and gave his name and description.

His stories checked out though and credit card statements would back it up, for the things he'd paid for. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration and stared at the article about the weapons testing for several long moments. His best lead wasn't a lead at all and he wondered where to go from here.

An article that was linked on the side caught his eye and then gave him an idea. He shut down his laptop and headed out of the office.

* * *

"There's someone in there," Clint told Steve. Steve peered around Clint, hand braced on his shoulder, and looked through the hole which still hadn't been fixed. He supposed they had to wait until the crime scene unit had finished clearing the place, and maybe for the investors and insurance company to make their rulings on whether it was an accident and all that. Steve was unsure of the red tape involved, just that it was convenient for them. Not that he'd not be adept at stealthing, but not having to break in was convenient.

"Who is it?" Steve asked and he saw Clint frown and assumed he was rolling his eyes behind his mask, "Never mind, it was a stupid question." Clint shook his head a little.

"No, I just don't know," Clint whispered and then he reached up and signaled that Steve should probably go inside. It wasn't the best course of action, especially since they didn't know who was in there, but it was worth a shot, really, to see if they could figure out who might have been doing this. And it was likely that it could be someone who was in cahoots with whomever had caused the accident in the first place. Steve nodded and slipped in, crouching low to avoid detection.

Whoever was in there wasn't trying hard to be silent, Steve stilled as he heard metal scrape along the floor. He ducked behind a shelf that was intact and peered at where the sound had come from. There was a man, short with curling hair, dressed in a business suit. He climbed on top of the chair and stood on his tip toes to look at something in the corner of the room. Steve followed his line of sight and noticed the video camera.

He swore softly, but then he noticed that he was examining the wires, which had been yanked out from the device. When the man turned, Steve recognized him. Tony Stark, the head of the company. He frowned, because he really hadn't expected this to be an inside job. Nor could he think of a good reason as to why Tony would have wanted to kill Jovan. But the questioning earlier...

Then again, that hadn't been about Jovan's death, it had been about weapon's theft. It was possible he wasn't really trying to clear Steve's name, he was looking for a fall guy! There was the possibility that his press conference about stopping the production of weapons was just lip service, a way to get back in to the good graces of the public. He could be stealing his _own_ research in order to sell off to make up for the dip in the company's stock. It really was an ingenious plan.

If Jovan had discovered the plot, he was the type of honest person that Steve was sure would turn something like that over to the police. Steve was actually a little disappointed, he'd liked his job here, but it was doubtful they'd let him keep it once he turned Stark in. Clint moved in beside him. He watched as Stark scrubbed a hand over his goatee and started trying to access a computer that was near to the blast. He pulled out the tower and started dismantling it.

"I think he's trying to erase evidence," Steve whispered to Clint. Clint frowned and shook his head.

"Wait," Clint said quietly, "I'm not so sure. I'm not sure he'd stand to gain much-" He ignored Steve's derisive snort.

"And he also wasn't the person who hired me," Clint continued, gesturing a little. "That guy was older, I think, wider, taller." Steve frowned a little.

"I don't think it'd hurt to question him," Steve said and he moved out from behind the shelving. Tony didn't look up at first and Steve cleared his throat.

"What're you doing here?" Steve asked and he moved over to Tony, pulling his hands away from the computer terminal. Tony looked up at him. He could smell the faint scent of whiskey and his eyes were fever-bright. Just what Steve needed... a drunk.

"I own the place," Tony said and his voice was surprisingly steady, "I think I should be asking you the same question." He rose a brow and gave him a patient look, though he was already reaching for his cell phone.

"Wait, don't! We're not the enemy here," Steve said. Or maybe they were if they were about to stop him from erasing the evidence of his crime. "We're trying to figure out what happened here, the victim..." Steve trailed off, because he didn't need to tell Tony that Jovan had been a friend. Though Tony was now giving him a strangely wary look.

"It was an accident, what happened here," Tony replied, but there was something about his voice, like maybe he didn't entirely believe that. Steve huffed a little and rubbed the back of his neck idly, nervous habit. Clint was moving behind him, probably looking for something to connect Tony to the crime. Steve shook his head.

"I don't think it was, I think it was on purpose," Steve said and he stared at Tony, trying to read his guilt, "The man who was killed in this explosion was arguing with someone the day before. I didn't hear all of it, but the other man was threatening him." Tony frowned then.

"And someone was paying my partner," He gestured in Clint's direction vaguely, "to steal things that had been hidden away here." There was no recognition flashing in Tony's eyes, and in fact he looked rather sick hearing it. He rubbed a hand over his mouth again and swallowed, tossing the hard drive on to the desk. He ran a hand through his hair and Steve frowned.

"I'm sure everyone will understand what happened here, but the man here deserves to have justice served, that's all we're out for." Steve was obliquely accusatory and he watched as Tony's eyes went wide with surprise and the corners of his mouth disappeared into his goatee as he frowned.

"If you think that I-" Tony started, but he was cut off by the sound of a gun firing. Steve turned, pulling Tony down to the floor roughly as he moved in to a crouch. Clint swore quietly, voice tight with pain, and Steve frowned a little.

"Stay down," Steve commanded harshly then he slowly moved towards the shelf again. He peeked around the corner and the sight caused him to feel somewhat sick, since he'd never seen anything like it. The man standing over Clint was dressed all in black, and he looked normal. Except his _face_. Where a head and hair should have been, there was the shape of a skull, crimson red, and grinning like a psychopath. Pale blue eyes stared out from the hollows of the orbital bone, and his teeth were bared.

"What the hell..." Steve started to say, but Clint interrupted him.

"He shot me!" Clint sounded really upset and the red skulled man didn't look amused, nor remorseful. Though really, if Steve had to guess, he probably couldn't make any sort of expression at all... except the constant teeth baring grimace.

"Sorry," The man said, but he didn't sound it. "You're merely a casualty of war." He ran a gloved hand over his gleaming crimson head and sidestepped Clint. Clint twisted and reached for his weapon, moving slowly as he tried to work through the pain of his gunshot wound.

"I'm actually here for Mr. Stark," The man continued, his boots clicking on the linoleum floor. Steve stood the rest of the way and positioned himself between the man and Tony. He held his head up high, jaw tight, and his expression fiercely determined.

"You'll have to get through me first," Steve challenged, pitching his voice low and squaring his shoulders in an attempt to look more intimidating.

The man nodded a little. "But of course," The man said, with that same grinning skull expression, unchanged except for the anger blazing in the man's eyes. Steve wasn't intimidated though and he curled his fingers in to fists. The other man had a gun, but Steve wasn't frightened.

He got a shot off, but with the way Steve moved, it missed and hit some unidentified vial of something that exploded on impact, setting off a chain reaction of the similar vials on the shelf next to it. Clint was on his feet again and scrambling for his bow.

Steve lunged backwards, moving as fast as he could, and shielded Tony's body with his own as glass and metal showered them; he heard the familiar twang of Clint's bowstring and a cry of pain from the red skulled man. Clint took the moment of distraction to duck behind a shelf and leapt over another fallen rack to land next to Steve.

"We have to get you out of here." Steve said to Tony, quietly. Tony frowned up at him, brushing glass out of his hair.

"He's after me?" Tony sounded a little dizzied and Steve nodded, helping him up from the ground by his elbow. He held Tony to him for a minute and then pushed him towards the hallway behind him.

"There's an emergency exit right down the hallway and to the left," Steve informed him in a quiet, urgent voice. He pressed a hand to the small of his back and propelled him out through the doorway. Steve looked to Clint, who was holding his arm, fingers curled around his bow.

"We should just go," Clint said quietly. Steve nodded a little. "If we don't, he might get past us." Red Skull was regaining himself and the gunfire sprayed, ricocheting off of the shelf at first, and Steve and Clint dived to opposite sides, so the bullets hit empty space where they had been standing. Steve knew that some basic training drills would get them more in tune with one another; hopefully there'd be less of a fight next time from Clint.

Steve nodded a little and there was a cry from down the hall. Steve's eyes went wide- _Tony_! Steve couldn't tell what the cry meant, exactly, but still, there shouldn't have been any reason for it to happen at all. He turned to Clint who nodded. Steve grabbed a small canister from his pocket and dashed it on the ground. When it hit, it exploded in to a cloud of smoke and Steve turned and ran down the hall. He grabbed the nearest thing off the shelf as he darted from the room.

Down where the halls intersected, Tony was standing against a man with at least one-hundred pounds on him, and a few inches of height. But the amazing thing was that the cry had to have come from getting hit. Blood was trickling from his lip, but he hadn't fallen, and in fact- he was moving back and forth like a snake about to strike. The larger man went for a gun and Tony sprang in to action.

Steve watched with a bit of awe and some horror as Tony lunged at the guy, fists moving in sharp, quick jabs. They were obviously stinging blows, as the man took a step back and threw up his fists to protect his face; Steve just wasn't sure if Tony had the upper arm strength for a knockout blow. Steve ran the rest of the way down the hall and made the best decision he could think of.

It was a little small, but he'd grabbed the top of a weighing scale off of the shelf on his way out and as soon as he came in view, he hurled it. Strong enough to where it took flight like a Frisbee despite its weight. He threw it at an angle and it ricocheted off of the wall so it didn't hit Tony in the back of the head. The makeshift weapon bounced off the wall and the path twisted, when the metal collided with the thug's head, he dropped to the ground. Tony shot him a look over his shoulder.

There was another twang of a bowstring and Clint came down the hall, Red Skull in pursuit. Steve swore quietly under his breath, and Tony's eyes were now on him. Maybe looking for him to make some sort of decision. Red Skull was raising the gun once more and- Steve was somewhat protected. It wasn't top quality or anything, but it was better than what he knew Clint had on, and what he suspected of Tony.

"Go!" Steve barked. He shoved Tony out of the way and the bullet caught him right in the chest. He stumbled backwards, driven to his knees, as the breath was knocked out of him. Red Skull moved after Clint and Tony and Steve twisted and grabbed his ankles, pulling him to the ground. He was wheezing, couldn't breathe, and Red Skull crashed to the floor. It was all Steve needed.

He clamored to his hands and knees and when Red Skull attempted to sit up, Steve caught him in a chokehold, arm across his trachea, holding him as he struggled until he went limp. Steve didn't linger, just long enough to cuff Red Skull's legs together at the ankles. He jumped up and stumbled down the hallway, feeling the rush of an ache in his chest. Tony and Clint were hovering by the door and he just nodded, signaling them it was time to go.

It wouldn't hold Red Skull forever, but it'd give them some time for Tony to get to safety.

* * *  
The emergency exit wasn't wired anymore so the alarm didn't blare when they pushed through. Tony wasn't entirely sure why- regardless, the three of them spilled out in to an alley that was somewhat clear of debris. Hawkeye nodded to him and still holding his arm, booked out one end of the alley and disappeared around the corner. Tony was fairly certain he was heading to the hospital, though he would have liked to know what the story he was going to feed the nurses on that one would be. Tony was still on a rush, panting quietly, heart hammering with adrenaline. It almost felt like he could feel the whine of the reactor and he kept taking sidelong glances at the Captain, wondering if he could hear it too.

Tony's fingers clutched at the brick wall behind him, and ducked his head down. He felt like he was holding on for dear life, and the Captain wasn't standing too far away from him, just slightly across the alley. He looked ridiculous and Tony thought that perhaps he should have a new costume. But the emotions of fear and adrenaline were tingling across his skin and he felt oddly restless. But he knew a way to cure that.

The Captain had saved his life, it was only natural to feel some pull of attraction to him. He was his hero, and he surged forward and captured his lips in a rough kiss, fingers curling tightly at the man's shoulders. The split in his lip stung and he didn't care. The Captain made a noise against Tony's mouth and reached up to cup his cheek, the leather of his gloves cold against Tony's fevered feeling skin.

Tony had to stand on his tiptoes to reach his lips, and he clutched at the Captain's shoulders, fingers digging in through the thin cloth of the ridiculous hoodie he was wearing. He definitely needed a new costume, but right now, Tony thought he should just keep kissing him like that. He kissed the Captain until he was breathless, and then he pulled back, heart beating faster and skin even more flushed.

"We should go back to my place," Tony said, his voice lower and rougher than he'd expected it. The Captain nodded and Tony grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the car. He shoved him down in to the backseat. "Actually, here works just fine." Tony pushed the Captain back, and didn't bother unmasking him while he unzipped his hoodie and started to trail kisses down his chest through the thin t-shirt.

His lips, instead, encountered the thin t-shirt pressed over something bulky and hard. There was a slight dip where the bullet had hit and Tony drew back to press his finger against it, rubbing his finger over it, and thinking about how much worse that could have gone. Had Steve only thrown himself in the way of the bullet because he'd had the vest on? Or had he cared that much about Tony's life to where he didn't mind risking it. Those things weren't one-hundred percent after all.

Tony couldn't worry about that, whatever else had happened, they were alive. Whoever that man was, they had made it, and Tony didn't want to die. It might be inevitable, with whatever was happening with his company, it seemed like something had to do with a vendetta against him. He couldn't risk putting things off. Or at least...

Tony didn't know who the Captain was, but that hardly mattered. It had never mattered before, all of the women that Tony had slept with, it was just about feeling. Right now his adrenaline was running so high and his chest ached, and he felt like he might just fall to pieces if he didn't have him, someone, right now. The Captain had proven to be willing and Tony was willing to give in to that.

The bulletproof vest would have to wait, they just needed to take the edge of, so he knelt between the Captain's knees on the bench in the car and undid his pants, folding himself almost in half to get his mouth around him. The Captain made a choked off sounding noise and the leather of his gloves squeaked against the leather of the seats.

They eventually made it back to Tony's house and once there, Tony stripped himself out of his clothing, and let the Captain stay in his own. There was a mumble of thanks, appreciative he didn't have to give up his identity, but he knew it had been too hot. Sweat dripped from the Captain's face and on to his back, as he was drawn up on his hands and knees, and given exactly what he was sure he needed. Tony cried out, clutched at the sheets and pressed his face against the pillow, his knees feeling weak and body shaking. The Captain moved above him, felt relentless, deep and to the point where Tony was crying out with every thrust. Then one of those smooth, leather gloved hands wrapped around his cock and stroked him, quick and careful, until his vision whited out and he was coming. Afterwards, they laid together, The Captain breathing heavily and Tony still shaking from the feeling of it all.

Some time in there, Tony fell asleep, with the Captain stroking at his stomach in a soothing manner. When he woke up the next morning there was a note on the bedside table that was hand written.

 _Sorry I couldn't stay, I had work to do. I'll come see you again. –CSR_

Tony stared at the note and wondered why the S and the R in that signature looked so familiar to him. He supposed he couldn't have expected him to stay and he shook his head and got ready for his own day. He had things to do, of course. Almost being killed didn't mean that things stopped moving around the office. It also didn't mean he was any closer to finding out what was going on with his company.

The day was a pretty much boring grind of paperwork, fending off reporters, and getting yelled at by Pepper on the phone when reports reached her about the weapons testing that had killed some civilians. He had to explain to her that he was looking in to it and that, really, she couldn't blame him when he hadn't done it. He wanted to explain to her about the thefts and everything else, but there was no guarantee he wasn't being wiretapped. Tony had done his own security sweeps, but it was possible he'd missed something.

When he got off the phone with Pepper, there was a call from Obadiah who wanted to make him an offer on the company- "while the stocks are still relatively high and you don't bankrupt yourself, Tony,"- but Tony politely refused. Since he wasn't figuring things out and the Captain had saved his life, and they seemed to be working on the same investigation he was, Tony decided he was going to help them with their work.

It was easy to find them, since they were still searching through the ruins of the weapons lab for clues. They were probably going to move on soon, though, since the evidence had probably degraded if they hadn't found anything yet. Tony kept an eye on them through the camera feed he had fixed and when they'd left empty handed, discussing working the angle on other leads, Tony headed out of his office to follow them.

The Captain was unlocking the door to their car when Tony caught up.

"You drive an _Aztek_?" Tony asked, nose wrinkling, almost in disgust. The Captain whirled when Tony spoke and he looked almost nervous.

"I do," The Captain replied and Tony watched the redness coloring his cheeks, while Clint peered at Tony from over the roof of the car. The car was dark blue and he didn't miss the Stark International parking pass in the front window, either. Curious.

Tony frowned a little and stepped closer to the car, studying it with intense scrutiny. An Aztek, really. It was a horrible car for a superhero, with it's ridiculous plastic framework. And it folded out in to a tent. No, really.

"I was at the Detroit auto show when they unveiled that thing," Tony said, distracted from his purpose in the face of the truck, "I can still hear the collective gasp that audience made." Tony stepped forward and rapped his knuckles on the back door. He could feel the Captain's eyes on him.

"That car could not have been more instantly hated if it had a Swastika tattoo on its forehead."

"Well, I like it," Steve protested and Tony sort of rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't matter, it's not why I'm here," Tony said and he put his hands in his pockets, eyeing the Captain and Hawkeye speculatively. "Actually, I'm here to... offer an exchange here. I want you guys to continue the good work you're doing, I see you on the news, I want to help. I want to sponsor you. But I need _your_ help." Tony paused a moment.

"Look, you two are already working on trying to discover what exactly happened in my weapons lab, but there's another factor. Someone is taking my weapons and harming people with them. I need to figure out who it is." Steve frowned, but then nodded a little.

"So, I will get you better costumes, and weapons, and a car... whatever you need, if you agree to help me." Tony waited and while the Captain stood there, Hawkeye grinned and gave a thumb up.

"Of course we'll help you and accept your help," Hawkeye said and he rattled off an address, "You can deliver anything you need to there." Hawkeye grinned and Tony committed the address to memory with a nod. Then he got their general sizes because really, those costumes.

The next morning, Tony called the number the Captain had given him and announced that he was coming over. The apartment was small and cramped, especially for a crimefighting duos headquarters, which seemed to consist mainly of one computer, a free standing glass board with writing on it, and several hand written notes about what they'd gathered from the weapons lab so far.

Tony's companion, a small statured fashion designer named Janet van Dyne was with him. She took one look at their costumes and then nodded to Tony. "You were right to call me, Tony," She told him with a solemn sort of nod. The Captain gave her a confused look, but she set to work immediately, flitting between the two men like a busy little bee.

Tony sprawled on the uncomfortable couch and watched as the two men were stripped down to their underwear and masks, so Jan could do measurements and adjustments. She had the costumes already, but she needed to tailor some of the lines on the pants and jackets.

Several hours later, in which Tony had dozed off on the couch, Jan woke him to announce that the boys were changing, and that their new outfits were going to be unveiled. Tony had seen most of them, but he was excited to see how they looked in person. When they exited (the Captain from the bathroom and Hawkeye from the bedroom), Tony lit up with delight. It was even better than he had expected.

Their outfits were similar, the variations mainly being in color. They looked very classy, like something out of the old Green Hornet comic books. The Captain's was done in a dark navy blue, almost black, with a crisp white shirt, vivid red tie, and a shiny white vest. It was a technically a dress shirt, tie, and vest- the jacket was cut long, ending mid-calf. The hat was also dark blue with a band of white around the brim, and a pair of red gloves. Though Jan had scoffed a little, she knew dress shoes were not appropriate for a lot of running, so the shoes were modeled on the army combat boots, shiny black.

His tie pin was a silver star, the mask was made of red material, and had wider eye-holes to facilitate better peripheral vision.

Hawkeye's outfit was similar, except his suit was black, and his accents were a jewel colored purple: the tie, the vest, the gloves, the mask, and the band around the hat. His tie pin was a silver arrow and Tony really wondered where Jan had got a tie pin like that. Tony grinned and clapped his hands together and he moved over to where a luggage case sat which he'd brought with him.

"I have presents too," Tony told them cheerfully. The first thing he pulled out was a round shield, red, white, and blue with a star in the middle. "I saw the way you took out those thugs with garbage can lids, and I thought this would be better. I used an experimental alloy, but it should protect you against most projectile attacks."

"And this," Tony continued, "Is for you." He handed Hawkeye a compound bow made from an aluminum composite.

"It's made from the same stuff they make aircraft out of," Tony told him with a smile, "So it should be near indestructible as far as the limbs and cams go. The bow string is made of a high-modulus polyethylene." Hawkeye was looking at him as if he was speaking Greek, but Tony wasn't worried.

"Since I had the formula for the Chobham armors because of course, they wanted me to make weapons that _pierced_ that armor, I made your body armor from the same type of composite. I manage to rework it so it'll be lightweight enough to go under your suits." Tony held up the body armor. He pulled out the utility belts next.

"I based these off of Batman," Tony said, and he started explaining out they were opened using biometric scanners that measured certain rhythms of their heart beat in order to open for them, and went through a list of the gadgets and items which were contained within. Most of the things he'd had on hand and had only required minor tweaks. The actual security systems on the belts had been the hardest to design, but he hadn't slept the night before, so it all worked out.

"Wow, Tony, this is... really amazing," The Captain said and he sounded awed. Tony grinned at that and he bounced up on to the balls of his feet, looking pleased as a person could be. They said goodbye to Jan, who Tony wrote a check to, and then he focused on the Captain. Hawkeye went back to the computer, where he seemed to be playing _Bejeweled_. Tony reached out and took the Captain's hands in his own.

"As wonderful as that suit looks on you," Tony told him in a low voice. "It would look a lot better on your floor." He smiled up at the Captain, looking at him through his eyelashes, which dipped artfully to a coy expression. He watched that flush of color return to the Captain's cheek and felt something close to triumph well up in him.

The feeling of triumph increased when the Captain led him to the bedroom.

* * *

Obadiah, with trepidation, flipped the switch on the reactor and watched as it whirred to life. For ten seconds it glowed brightly, like the one he'd seen in Tony's chest, before it popped and sparked and began smoking, having a meltdown right in front of Obadiah's eyes. Annoyance flashed quickly in his eyes and he slapped the smoking reactor from the work bench, watching as it shattered against the tiled floor.

The scientist winced a little and looked down at the pieces of the failed reactor on the floor. Obadiah was red-faced, fingers clenched tightly, and then he slammed his fist down on the blueprints for the reactor. Another scientist jumped when he did, but he wasn't particularly worried about what they were thinking. He was angry... upset, because Tony Stark had built this from memory under duress and his team of scientists couldn't build it with the blueprint.

"We've tried everything-" The scientist began, but Obadiah's glare cut him off.

"Obviously, you have not tried everything," Obadiah cut in, his voice steady despite the rise in his anger, "If you had tried everything, that wouldn't be in pieces on the floor. If you had tried everything, we would have a working prototype of that reactor. Tony Stark built this in a cave with a box of _scraps_. You have a fully stocked lab and blueprints to work from."

"But, sir," The scientist started, "I am not Tony Stark. The man is a genius." Obadiah frowned even darker and he lashed out, knocking some poor person's laptop to the ground, where the screen cracked and then went black.

"I don't care if you're not Tony Stark," Obadiah said through gritted teeth. "You had better have a working prototype for me when I return tomorrow... or may god have mercy on your soul, because I won't." Obadiah straightened his suit jacket out and then turned, heading out the door.

As he walked down the sterile halls in the weapons wing of Stane Industries, he began to devise a fallback plan. If his scientists couldn't make a reactor from a blueprint, perhaps they could reverse engineer one from the one that was already built.

* * *

Tony fiddled with a pen, dancing it through his fingers like a stage magician, and watching as the sunlight from the panes of windows winked across the silver casing. He had his feet propped up on the desk, getting smudges of dirt on the stack of papers that was spread across it. He didn’t really care; it was all inconsequential garbage anyways. Another offer from Stane Industries that he wasn’t even going to consider. He’d told Obadiah a week after he got back that he was getting out of the weapons business. He wasn’t going to sabotage himself by selling designs meant to kill to people who’d not hesitate to use them. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Obadiah... no, it was exactly that he didn’t trust Obadiah. It was difficult to explain, Tony wasn’t trying to, anyways.

Tony had already told him no, several times, because he knew exactly what would happen if someone else became the head of SI. It wasn’t as though there was anything he could do to make Obie stop asking. It wasn’t as if he could stop talking to a man who had been such an integral part of his life for almost as long as he could remember. As the head of the company, Tony was getting annoyed. However, Obadiah was an old friend, so he kept letting him down as gently as possible, and hoping that he got it, eventually. Stark International was no longer involving itself in the business of making weapons and that included selling old designs to rival weapons manufacturers. They could use the money, stock points were dropping still, but Tony wasn’t going to compromise this, himself, his integrity, anymore. He’d made a decision and he intended on sticking with it.

Tony leaned forward and dropped his pen on the desk. It rolled and fell. He leaned back in the chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. It wouldn’t stave the headache that he could feel coming on, but the act of it helped him to not think about it as much. The stress was getting to him. He dropped his feet back to the floor, curled his toes in his shoes, and started looking through the calendar on his desk. He wondered if he could skive off his appointments for the rest of the day. He had a lunch with a potential business partner in half an hour. He was sure he knew what the pitch would be.

He’d had a similar offer a week and a half prior, they wanted to buy in to Stark International, as a majority shareholder at fifty-one percent. They’d spoken a good pitch about how Tony’s name would still be on the building and that he’d still be able to keep designing... but he’d lose his position as the CEO and anyone else in that position would probably re-open their recently closed weapons departments. He’d tried not to make jobs an issue; he’d called in favors, and re-assigned as many people as he could. They were losing money, still. They’d pulled out on their government defense contracts. Howard had put some of them in place and losing them was hurting the business. For years, Stark International had built itself up with the help of government money, and it was terrifying to walk without that crutch.

Tony had ideas, of course. It was just a matter of getting the board of the directors to _listen_ to him for once.

The board of directors was all shareholders. Tony did hold fifty-one percent of the shares currently, with the rest of them spread out to his board members in varying degrees. Tony would have to give up his own shares, and then he’d have no say at all. They’d only keep the name so that there was recognition when they sold their death machines to the highest bidder.

The alternative wasn’t better either, where he let someone buy in to the company, and he became something ridiculous like Stark-

He paused in his thought process to peer at the name of the man listed on his schedule. Justin Hammer, _god_. Stark-Hammer International. Actually, knowing that egotistical bastard, Hammer-Stark International.  
Tony rubbed his bridge again and closed his eyes.

He decided that he wasn’t going to show up to that meeting and wondered what type of excuse to use. He supposed he could tell Justin he had some pressing business with a gorgeous blonde. Or blond.

 _”Mr. Stark,”_ his secretary’s voice interrupted his thoughts as it crackled over the intercom, _”There’s a Captain Rogers here to see you.”_ She sounded hesitant. Tony stared at the intercom for a moment before he parsed the name and he hit the button.

“Send the Captain in,” Tony said and he spun his chair away from the desk and looked at the window, out over the concrete jungle. He missed Malibu.

“Mr. Stark,” The familiar voice greeted him and in the faint reflection in the window, Tony saw the man tip his hat forward. Tony rolled his eyes and spun his chair around, gesturing towards the low, leather chairs set up in front of his desk. Steve moved from the door and took a seat. Tony smiled lazily at him.

Gorgeous blond it was. He crossed Justin Hammer off his calendar.

“How can I help you?” Tony asked. He propped his elbows up on his desk and laced his fingers together, leaning in to study Steve with a smile as he removed his hat and set it on his lap. The Captain smiled at him slightly, dimples showing and he leaned forward too.

“Actually, I think I’m going to be the one helping you.”

“Oh really?”

“I think I’ve figured something out,” The Captain said, smile fading as he focused on something more serious. Tony nodded a little.

“What have you got?”

"I had a friend of mine at the department check in to Jovan's phone records, and there were suddenly a lot of calls to the same number," The Captain explained, "Right now they're running a trace on the number, Sharon's working as fast as she can, but you know how the red tape can be. They're looking in to his bank account too." He shrugged his shoulders. Tony nodded his agreement. The Captain smiled.

"I also have my friend running a DNA sample we managed to get from our attempted assassin, so hopefully, that'll give us some clues," The Captain added. Tony nodded again.

"I have a meeting soon," Tony told him with a quick smile and the Captain made to stand, Tony beckoned him over. "No, you don't have to go yet." Tony's voice was low and quiet and when he moved over to him, Tony grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him down for a kiss.

* * *

Steve's phone chimed with a familiar song and Sharon's face popped up on the view screen and he couldn't help but smile. Despite the way things had worked out, they were still friends, and she was helping him... even if she didn't know she was helping him. He pressed the button for the speakerphone.

"Detective Carter," Steve greeted, frowning a little as he tried to figure out the devices that Tony had delivered that morning. He looked at the little darts that were supposed to be loaded and shook it, looking as the small amount of liquid splashed on the sides, "How can I help you?" He asked. Clint was putting the fletching on his arrows but he looked up to listen to what Sharon had to say.

"Captain," Her voice was as cool as it ever was, in what Steve called her 'business' voice. "I ran those phone records like you asked me to, and the bank accounts, and you're really not going to like what I found out." Her voice suggested as such and Steve leaned forward, setting the dart aside and grabbing a notepad so he could write down the information she had to give him.

"Alright, Carter, let's hear it then," Steve said after a moment, pen poised over the paper.

"Well, first the phone records, all those calls... someone wasn't covering their tracks as well as they should have been. It's circumstantial so far, as per pursuing it in a legal manner," She said and her tone pointed. Steve shifted in his seat nervously, "The calls came from a phone registered to Obadiah Stane."

"Stane? Isn't he one of those industrialists?" Clint asked. Steve nodded a little.

"Yeah, Stane Industries is one of the competitors of Stark International, only not so much now, since Stane is almost exclusively defense contracts and weapons manufacturing. It makes little sense for them to be targeting Stark International when they've already removed themselves from the competition," Steve said with a frown.

"There's more," Sharon interrupted, "The bank statements were a little more worrying. See, Stane Industries has a subsidiary company Ezekial Enterprises, based in Puerto Rico that has their bank accounts off shore, somewhere in Europe. That company has been giving massive payouts to Jovan, they're labeled as paychecks, but Jovan Shani was employed at Stark International. Personally, I think there was something going on there." The sound of the station crackled over the static as Steve and Clint exchanged a look.

"So you're thinking Stane was paying Jovan money... for what purpose?" Steve asked and Clint straightened up.

"Captain, that's it! The folders they were pa- looking for hidden away in the weapons lab. The explosion must have been engineered so that they could slip in without having to go through the doors and gather up the things that had been hidden away," Clint said excitably.

The series of events that clicked in to Steve's mind made him feel vaguely nauseated, because that would mean...

"And it would explain why your-"

"Thanks, Sharon. I owe you one." Steve quickly hung up on her and Clint was undeterred.

"- keycard was being used at SI. Jovan must have lifted it from you to throw suspicion off himself. Steve, he had to be the one that was putting the research aside. It makes sense, he must have been in league with Obadiah." Clint looked pleased, and Steve's phone rang again.

"I already said thank you," Steve answered the phone irritably, hitting the button to put it on speakerphone again.

"I wasn't finished, Captain," Sharon said acerbically. Steve frowned at her tone. "I managed to get a friend, Jenna Carlisle, to rush those blood samples you managed to grab. We were lucky, his sample was already in CODIS, a man named Johann Schmidt, who was in there for an arrest for a violent crime, assault, over in California. He was recently taken off probation, and since then no one has heard anything from him."

"If Stark International keeps DNA profiles on their employees, you might be able to cross-reference it," Sharon said. When Clint brightened, Steve shook his head. He knew their drug testing was sent to a lab upstate and that the results returned only had the pertinent information, and the samples were destroyed once the tests were ran and confirmed.

"Is that it?" Steve asked.

"That's all I've got for now," Sharon replied, "I'm going to keep looking for this Shmidt person, contact his parole officer and see if I can find anything out for you." Sharon sighed a little and Steve nodded a little.

"Thanks, Carter. I guess I owe you two." Steve smiled. "Call me when you find anything else out." He clicked his phone shut and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Then he dropped his hands into his lap and he gave Clint a look. Clint looked confused.

"Tony's meeting with Stane _right now_ ," Steve said. He'd spoken to Tony on the phone earlier, when he'd called to ask if their gear had come in. Steve's eyes went wide. "Suit up, he could be in danger." Steve grabbed his phone again and dialed Tony's number. It rang five times, and then clicked over to voice mail. Steve hung up and tried a few more times.

By the time he and Clint were ready to go, Steve was sure that Tony was in serious trouble.

* * *

Tony stared at the television with a frown on his face. The news was muted, but the shaky footage was more than telling of what was happening. And if it wasn't, the breaking news headline was more than enough information for Tony's gut to clench. _"More Deaths Caused by Stark International's Weapons Testing"_. This was somewhere over in the Middle East... and judging by the pictures of the victims, Tony had a bad feeling about what the weapons "testing" actually was. All of the victims were soldiers and Afghani civilians. Someone must have been slipping a terrorist cell some weapons. He pinched the bridge of his nose, having a sinking suspicion that this related to the explosion in his weapons lab in New York. He hoped that The Captain and Hawkeye were making headway in their investigation... because Tony wasn't coming up with much.

Tony rubbed at the back of his neck in frustration and wondered what the hell was going on here. He knew someone had to have taken their prototypes and were setting them off, but he wasn't sure who would benefit. In the Middle East, though, it could easily be the people who had kidnapped him, or at least people involved in the same sect as before. He was _sure_ that he'd gotten rid of all their weapons, but if someone here was stealing his weapons, they could just as easily be selling them. He shook his head and finished knotting his tie.

He smoothed out the lapels of his suit jacket and did the buttons up, before he headed for the front room of the mansion, where he was going to greet Obadiah. He raked a hand through his hair, then tried to straighten it out, before he gave it up as a bad job. And it was just Obie, so he probably wouldn't be concerned. When Tony entered the foyer, Obie was standing there, wearing a smile. Tony smiled back, feeling a little more at ease. At least Obadiah wouldn't be judging him about everything that had been happening.

"Let me just grab my keys and we'll get out of here," Tony said, turning towards the mantle where his key ring was sitting in an ashtray. His fingers closed around them, he heard something that sounded slightly familiar, and all of a sudden he couldn't move. The high-pitched whine seemed to reverberate in his mind and his knees buckled. He crumpled to the ground. Tony could hear the words he wanted to form, but he couldn't seem to make his mouth work.

"Oh, Tony, wherever did we go wrong with you," Obadiah wondered. He used his toe to turn Tony over on to his back. Tony couldn't move, he could hear Obadiah talking, but he couldn't do anything about it even as Obadiah pulled the earplugs out, and knelt down next to where Tony was. All he could do was wonder why he'd left Happy in California and try to form words.

"Tony, Tony, Tony... your newfound pacifism has made you too soft, too trusting. You're not even seeing what's right there in front of you. And this-" Obadiah unknotted the tie from around Tony's neck and undid the buttons on his shirt. "- This could be something so much _more_ than just clean energy. But you refuse to see it's full potential because _you_ have become..." He paused, as though waiting for Tony to finish the sentence. He smiled grimly.

"Too soft, Tony," Obadiah chided again, "And so selfish." He tapped the screen on the reactor, then traced a finger along the outer edge of it. "You think that just because you have an idea, that it belongs to only you. Your father... he helped invent the atomic bomb, and where would we be if he had been as selfish as you?" Obadiah clucked his tongue and began to undo the catches on the reactor.

"Your old man wasn't selfish, Tony, but I can see how you would have come out as. You were never really disciplined, never really raised at all, and so here we are. And here _you_ are." Obadiah released the last catch and then twisted the reactor, pulling it out of its casing. Tony's eyes went wide and his breathing stuttered. His fingers twitched slightly and... he wanted to speak.

"But now, we're going to give this for everyone to have, Tony. It's going to be the next great innovation, the next atom bomb, the newest wave of military technology. It looks like you climbing out of that cave was fate for me; the prodigal son, giving us one last great innovation." Obadiah pocketed the reactor and stood. He smiled that same, grim smile down at Tony.

"Goodbye, Tony," Obadiah said and he turned towards the door, "We won't be meeting again." Tony stayed still, didn't speak even though pride really wanted him to respond to that last parting shot. His heart felt erratic, and he couldn't think, he could barely breathe. The door shut behind Obadiah and god he wished he'd brought somebody with him.

He was wondering what people were going to say, the jokes they might make about the hole in his chest where his heart should be. And maybe he deserved this. God knew he hadn't done enough to atone for the sins he'd committed. He was about ready to give it all up, make peace with himself before he had to meet his maker. But he remembered.

 _Pepper_. Pepper and her sentimentality, she'd sent him. With effort, he managed to roll up on to his knees, and he felt not unlike a newborn as he started to crawl across the floor. It was in the office, the downstairs office, he'd been using it. He'd not been entirely thrilled with the gift except _now_. It might just save his life. The carpet scraped at his hands and his feet dragged in the shag, as he couldn't quite move his knees well. He was dragging himself with his hands, standing up would be too much effort. He wasn't going to make it. Maybe he should...

But he had imagined himself as a superhero, when he'd built that metal monstrosity in the cave... and he'd gotten himself out and he'd defeated the bad guys, he had thought ' _I could be a superhero_ '. Maybe even like the Captain. Superheroes didn't give up, they didn't quit, they fought and fought until they couldn't anymore. His fingertips were blue, his chest was aching so bad it was causing tears to gather in the corner of his eyes. He wasn't going to give up. Fight until he couldn't.

He got to the office and he clutched at the desk, tried to pull himself up to get to the box. He scrambled, but he barely had the strength, his breathing was shallowing, and he almost felt like he could feel the shrapnel digging in to his heart, a physical sensation. He swallowed against a lump in his throat and he didn't want to die. He knocked the box from the corner of the desk and the contents came spilling out. Encased in glass.

He'd never get it. There had to be a catch or a release or something. Tony's fingers were numb as he grabbed the base of it and ran them along the edges of the glass. If he could just... could just find where the seal was. His fingers caught at the upraised plastic at the base and there was no catch. He couldn't find the catch. His fingers caught on something and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He popped the case but his vision was swimming, his fingers fumbled for the reactor and he caught the edge of it, and his fingers curled and he dragged it to him. There was a sudden spike of pain and everything went white, then black.

When Tony came to, he could breathe again, and his heart didn't feel like someone was spearing shrapnel through it. His vision cleared and faces were above him. Both blonds, both wearing masks, and vaguely familiar outfits. Maybe this was Heaven? Or maybe Hell, and these guys were going to kill him.

"I cannot believe that actually worked," The one in purple and black said. Recognition set in. Hawkeye. And The Captain.

"Well, it was the perfect size, it's basic logic. Circle object in circle hole," The Captain huffed a little and he reached out to pet Tony's hair off from his brow. "We came here to tell you we think Obadiah Stane is trying to kill you... but I think you figured that out." Tony tried to laugh, but he didn't really feel like he could. He closed his eyes briefly.

"You..." Tony started, then struggled to catch his breath, "You saved me."

"Technically, you saved yourself," Hawkeye said, "We found you in here, but you had the... the thing, whatever it is, next to your chest anyways." Hawkeye nodded to the Captain and he nodded too. His hat slipped off when he did, and though he put it on rather quickly, the haircut looked really familiar to Tony. He couldn't think about it now.

"I think I know what he's after," Tony said, struggling to a sitting position, the Captain helped him and he nodded his thanks. "He has a... a building in California too. I should... I need a phone, I do." He got to his feet, leaning heavily on the desk.

"Pepper!" He said in to the phone, glad she answered, "I need you to do a big favor for me. I need you to see if you can find anything suspicious at Stane Industries. We think Obadiah might have something to do with all of this." He waved vaguely.

 _"Mr. Stark, you honestly can't expect me to break in to someone else's company and find information on them! I don't get paid for that."_

"Pep, please, I need you to do this. It's the only way we can clear the company's name, and put Stane away. The man has gone crazy and he needs to be stopped. Pepper, please. I'm begging you." Pepper was silent for several long moments and then she sighed.

 _"Fine, boss, but you owe me."_ Pepper hung the phone up and Tony smiled at the Captain and Hawkeye. His eyes looked familiar too, Tony suddenly realized, looking at the cutouts in the mask that Jan had made. Tony grinned with the knowledge, but he'd tell him later.

"We're going to go after him," The Captain said and Tony nodded. "Call us when Pepper calls you." The Captain grabbed Hawkeye by the elbow and they ran out, leaving Tony to himself.

But Tony wasn't going to let this stand without fighting back. He could be a hero too. He had some things back at SI. He straightened out his shirt and then headed outside. It was time to be the hero he thought he could be.

* * *

The blueprints had provided Obadiah with enough of a schematic to build this weapon. Technically, Tony had built it. A sort of... more peaceful solution to conflict. A sonic gun which incapacitated instead of killed, though the testing that Obadiah had done had suggested it could do the latter if one was exposed to its effects long enough. Obadiah had had an even better idea than that.

Obadiah knew that one could rule the world through fear, or at least the closest one could get to ruling a non-globalized world. If he could get in to a position of power, it'd be even easier, and he knew just the way to do it. This weapon was going to be the next generation in warfare. The reactor could power it almost indefinitely, if Obadiah's calculations were right, and there wasn't a thing alive that could withstand the effects of it for too long.

Or really, anything that could withstand the effects at all.

It had been particularly effective at incapacitating Tony and that was with one brief little pulse of it. He had even already built the earmuffs that could proof against it, because he was certain of his calculations. This could be the next big thing and Stane Industries would be the powerhouse that Stark International once was. And Obadiah Stane could be the one to bring about the future of warfare.

If Howard could see him now. No longer in second place. Obadiah slotted the reactor in to the weapon he had built and watched as the power core was accepted, and the sides of the gun lit up to show that the charge was ready. Obadiah smiled and grabbed the phone. It was time to call the Secretary of Defense and show him the new technology that was soon going to be at his disposal.

He dialed the number for the Pentagon and stroked the side of the gun. Things were definitely going to look up for him now.

* * *

Steve and Clint arrived at Stane Industries in record time and likely broke several traffic rules while doing so, but they hadn't gotten hints of being pulled over, so there was that at least. Stane Industries was mostly dark, except for some lights on at the top floor and Steve frowned a little and pointed up to the top of the building. "He's probably there," Steve said.

Clint nodded his agreement and looked at the front doors and then at the windows again.

"We're going to have to go in through the front doors, aren't we?" Clint asked. Steve nodded and straightened his hat.

"There's going to be night watchmen and whoever else that... strange guy who shot you has with him," Steve said, loosening the straps on the shield that Tony had created for him. Clint gave a sidelong glance at the shield, but didn't say anything. Steve knew he wouldn't, it'd been pretty effective against the people they'd busted last night who'd been attempting to jack a car.

Clint adjusted his hat and un-shouldered his bow, nocking an arrow as he nodded to the fire escape. "We could climb up that way, and at least have the element of surprise for a bit," Clint said and Steve pursed his lips in thoughtful consideration. Steve paused and rubbed at the back of his neck and then eyed the fire escape once more. Quickly, he went through the varying tactics in his head.

If they went for the fire escape, there was a chance they could get caught climbing, the elevators were as good as a death sentence if Stane cut power to them between floors. And running up flights of stairs, while fighting a retreating battle probably wouldn't be the safest option. Steve worried his lower lip for just a moment and then nodded to Clint in agreement.

"You're right, the fire escape is probably the best bet," Steve said and he started towards it, "But if they notice us, we're going to be fighting one hell of an inconvenient battle." Clint laughed from behind him, though there was nervousness edging it, not that Steve could blame Clint in the slightest.

"After you," Clint offered, gesturing for Steve to go first. Steve wanted to make a comment about it, but he was a soldier at heart, and he'd never have someone in his unit go first in such an uncertain and dangerous situation. He tightened the straps on his shield once more, but withdrew the dart gun that Tony had provided them with. He wasn't a fan of guns, in general, but there was a fast-acting sedative on the tip of the darts that would decommission thugs they came across without expending much energy.

The fire escape was rusted with disuse and it creaked and swayed some as they scaled it. But in spite of that, they didn't seem to garner attention from anyone inside, which was a plus. It gave them time to get inside and set up an appropriate plan of action. Steve was tired by the time they reached the top, the slow climb having caused a burn in his muscles; it was something that adrenaline would get rid of soon enough. This situation was now or never, Steve wasn't going to back down, and despite the labored breathing from behind him, Steve was sure that Clint wasn't going to give up on him either.

In his pocket, Steve's phone vibrated, and he answered it by tapping the Bluetooth receiver in his ear. Another gift from Tony for their crime fighting and the phone was one only Tony and Clint had the number for, so there was little mystery as to who it was.

 _"It was a little difficult to get past their security measures,"_ Tony's voice came in through his ear, _"But I was able to get in and I'm pulling up the video feeds from my office."_ Steve had to smile at that and he held up a fist to Clint, signifying for him to hold his position.

 _"The picture isn't too great, these things are closed circuit-ish, old black and white, nineteen-eighties security protocols,"_ Tony actually sounded annoyed and Steve understood why; but if the feeds were bad, then it was likely that they had a bit more time to set their attack up. Tony was quiet for a few seconds, breathing in to the receiver, the click of a keyboard audible over the line- Steve guessed he was on speakerphone.

 _"Be careful of that weapon Stane has, it's what he used to incapacitate me earlier; they're on the top floor in the executive officer. There are guards patrolling, but I think you have about two minutes to get back on the stairwell before they come round."_

Steve held two fingers up, pressed together, and waved Clint through the stairwell door. It was a service access, for when the elevators were out, and it smelled musty and unused. Steve followed Clint up the stairs. He took the lead once they got through the door, however, and headed toward the main office. They were confronted, however, before they could get too far.

Clint fired rapidly and Steve did too. But they'd not been practicing nearly enough, and the arrow and the dart struck the same person, hitting him in the knee for a disabling shot, then the sedative pumping through him. He cried out in pain and raised the alarm. The sound was shrill, like a siren, and interrupted by the smell of cordite and the whip-crack of gunfire. The bullets sprayed in front of them, successive shots, though he wasn't a great shot. The first one grazed Steve's arm, the second missed Clint by millimeters, and Steve was able to guard them from the rest by throwing his shield up in front of them.

After the sounds of shots faded, Steve threw the shield and watched as it ricocheted and caught the man in the ribs. There was a sickening crunch and he crumpled. Steve grabbed the shield as he stepped over the two men, and a group of four surged in front of them, while Stane and Red Skull slipped from the office and headed for the roof access.

"Damnit!" Clint shouted and he fired after Stane and the Skull. The arrows missed their mark, one catching in the plaster of the wall, the other clattering uselessly against the heavy metal door. Steve frowned a little and rushed the first thug, slamming his shield in to the man's gut. Clint had another arrow at the ready and the bowstring twanged as they whizzed by. More bullets and Steve felt one graze his ear, more burn than anything else. Steve barely spared it a second thought.

The next blow of his shield hit a guard in the face, another crack of a bone, and he thumped to the ground and Steve leapt over him and headed for the roof. Clint wasn't far behind him, he could hear the sound of his footfalls behind him.

 _"Don't go up there!"_ Tony all but shouted at him through the earpiece. _"I can't... Damnit, get back in the building!" _Tony sounded frightened, but Steve ignored him, reached up to end the call so Tony couldn't distract him.__

"This ends now," Steve said as he went through the door that led to the roof. There was some sort of tower atop... a cell tower or a radio tower. Stane was standing beneath it, stroking the weapon Steve had been warned about, the sides in it pulsing blue. Steve looked between Stane and Red Skull, while Stane laughed, the noise almost swallowed by the noise on the roof. Traffic was a distant background noise, but the wind was whistling up here. Steve squared his shoulders.

"You're right, Captain," Stane said as a smile spread over his face, "This does end now. But not for me, oh no, this is going to be the end of _you_. The end of Stark International. The end of this pacifism which is Tony Stark's newest fad." Steve's eyes narrowed. He had been a soldier, sure. But he wasn't one for war-mongering.

The roof door slammed open again and Steve turned partially, to see who it was. He wasn't surprised to see that it was Tony, though the thought of him here right now made something sick well up in him. What in the hell was Tony doing here anyways?

"Of course you want an end to the pacifism," Tony said, his voice a little rough as he shouted, "You're nothing but a war profiteer. I know it was you." Stane smirked a little, still stroking his weapon. There was something faint blue glowing in Tony's ear, Steve noticed, but he assumed it was the Bluetooth connection.

"I know what you _did_ ," Tony continued, his voice dripping... Steve had thought it would be contempt, but it sounded much nearer to hurt, "I guess you couldn't handle always coming in second, you had to wipe out the competition. I was done, Stane! You got what you wanted, I stopped producing weapons, so why this? Why does it have to come to this?"

Tony's voice was almost pleading, Steve wasn't sure why. Stane was just a business rival, though he had gone a bit far.

"You yelled at me for being selfish, but what about you? I know you sold weapons, _my weapons_ , to those terrorists groups. Was it because I wouldn't sell you my company? My father built SI in to what it was, it had nothing to do with you, so why do you feel you deserve it?"

"As usual, Tony, you don't understand. You're a genius when it comes to inventing, but you never really quite got the rest. You're content with what you have, because you've been given everything you have. I want more and getting you out of the way, completely, is the only way to ensure that." Steve frowned as Red Skull stepped nearer to the three of them. Clint had an arrow ready and Steve was holding on to his shield, but Tony seemed weaponless. Red Skull raised his gun and both Steve and Clint acted.

Clint fired the arrow but Red Skull's reaction time was fast and he dodged out of the way. He got a shot off, but it went way wide, ricocheting off of the base of the tower. Steve had gone for Tony, positioning himself with his shield to deflect the blows from Tony.

"What're you doing here?" Steve hissed and Tony frowned at him.

"I came to help," Tony said peevishly, "You could at least be grateful."

"You're going to get yourself killed," Steve snapped, "You're not ev-" Steve cut off when something like a shrill whine reverberated in his ears. His fingers went numb and he dropped the shield, then dropped to his knees as he covered his ears. His vision went strange and his equilibrium left him. He didn't really notice what was happening for a few moments of agony and when his vision cleared, he noticed that Tony was crouching beside him, face screwed up like he was in pain, but there was something about it that led Steve to believe that Tony was faking it.

He had two identical blue glowing things in his hands, they were small- just large enough to fit in Steve's ears and Tony fit them in. "They should counteract Stane's weapon, at least at this frequency, keep him distracted, I have to go help Clint." Tony stood and darted across the roof and Steve chanced a look over there. Clint was laid out by the weapon as well, but Red Skull was fast approaching, his guns drawn and that same grimace on his face- permanent- it wasn't like a skull could do anything but grin.

"Oh, it looks like I'll have to up the ante," Stane said from beside him and he clicked something on the weapon, and when he fired it next, the tower trembled, and Steve felt a wave of vertigo, though he didn't fall this time. He grabbed his shield again with slightly clumsy movements and threw it at Obadiah. It went wide, hit the tower, and the ricochet hit Stane in the back of the knee.

He fell forward, but he didn't let go of his weapon and he fired it again. Clint cried out in agony, a shriek to go along with the almost imperceptible whine of Stane's device. Clint went somewhat rigid, blood trickling from his nose, and Steve rushed Stane. He heard a gunshot, but he didn't bother to look and see what had happened... he needed to disarm Stane.

Stane didn't dodge Steve, so much as aim his weapon at the tower and let that do the dodging for him. A girder crashed down and halted Steve's progress, the edge of it ripping his pants, causing a shallow cut down his thigh. Blood sprang from it and he heard another gunshot. This time, he allowed himself to be distracted and he turned to see what was happening.

Clint's ears were glowing and he was struggling to his feet; Tony and Red Skull were wrestling for the gun, the shots going wild as Tony struggled for the dominant position. The break in concentration cost him though and he barely managed to dodge out of the way of the next falling girder. It slammed down on his foot, managing to avoid breaking it, but there'd be a bruise.

Another gunshot, but Steve re-focused on his target, disarming Stane. He leapt over the fallen girder and attempted a sort of leap attack, scaling the radio tower as quickly as he could with his shield held in one hand. There was a twang of a bow string and Red Skull howled, the gun fired again, but Steve didn't pay attention.

The next blast of Stane's gun caused him to drop his shield again and lose his grip on the tower, he hadn't gotten far up, but he hit his head on the way down, and he crawled up on his knees, dizzied with the blow to his head. Steve panted quietly.

"Captain!" He heard Tony call his name distantly and he heard the rumble of the tower again with the blast of the gun. Steve hauled himself to his feet and rushed again, he managed to hit the weapon out of Stane's hand and it skittered to the edge of the roof. The girder came shrieking down as it hit others on the way down. Steve tried to move, but the edge of it caught him, cutting through his jacket and his shirt, deep enough to where he let out a pained cry.

He dropped back down to his knees, tears stinging at his eyes, and for several long moments there was nothing but fire, then the warm, damp of blood and the smell of copper hit him. He could see it drip to the floor, but he had to keep fighting- he had to get that damn weapon before Stane did.

"Johann!" Stane called out and Red Skull disengaged from Clint and sprinted towards the weapon. Tony was heading for Steve and Steve shook his head a little, and dragged himself to his feet. It wasn't easy to jump, with the way his vision swam, but he did, and the exertion caused his blood to pump faster, but well.

Who knew how many lives Stane intended to destroy... his own wasn't so large a price to pay to prevent that. He reached the weapon almost the same time Red Skull did, his fingers brushed the gun, but it was taken away from him and Red Skull crowed triumphantly. He flipped a switch on the side and his eyes gleamed with excitement.

"And now, the end," Red Skull announced. His finger depressed the trigger and Tony screamed and Steve's vision was going red around the edges. He couldn't hear anything over the sound of Tony's screaming, but suddenly it stopped and the silence was replaced quickly by Red Skull howling, getting further away. Clint's nose was still bleeding and he was on his knees, but he must have shot Red Skull, and he must have fallen to his death, since the cry stopped.

"Get Stane!" Tony said hoarsely from behind him and Steve was suddenly aware of a presence above him, he couldn't see too great, but he recognized Tony's hands when they pressed against his forehead. Steve swallowed and tried to find words. He wasn't... he wasn't very good at this, all one had to do was ask Sharon to know...

"Tony, I..." Steve started, but Tony put a finger to his lips. He felt dizzy, he was losing a lot of blood.

"Don't worry, Steve," Tony whispered to him, stroking his hair off his forehead, "You're going to be just fine." Tony turned away from him and Steve was pretty sure he wasn't going to be fine, he was losing so much blood, and he felt so cold.

"You know my name..." Steve said and Tony turned back to him, laid his fingers against his neck, and his other fingers against his lips. Steve knew his pulse was slowing, breathing shallowing, and he closed his eyes again.

"Shh, it's okay," Tony soothed. He turned away again. "Hawkeye, we need to go _now_. Let the cops handle Stane."

* * *

Dr. Stephen Strange's familiar candy apple red Lexus was still parked in the driveway, so Tony assumed that the good doctor was still home. Which was just as well, since while _he_ had figured out who Steve was, they didn't need the whole staff at Mercy Hospital to do so. But Strange was an old friend and Tony was certain that he'd not mind helping them out. And he'd certainly be able to keep quiet when it came to Steve's identity.

Tony rang the doorbell insistently and watched as Clint tried to stop the bleeding with his fingers, though it was still dripping cherry red all over Stephen's white porch. He'd pay to get it cleaned. Stephen answered the door, dressed in a nicely pressed pair of suit pants and an open dress shirt, tie slung over his shoulders. His brow furrowed. Tony was holding Steve up, he could barely walk on his own.

"Tony?" Stephen sounded genuinely confused, though his eyes dropped down to where Steve was dripping all over his porch. He groaned in frustration but he stepped aside. "That's the Captain?" Stephen asked, but his awed voice suggested he already knew as such. Tony smiled and led Steve in, Clint following close behind.

"Sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but we need some help," Tony said apologetically. "We were in a pretty bad fight, but he took most of the damage and we were hoping you could look at him. And, you know, not tell everyone his identity." Clint removed Steve's hat and mask and then started to pull the jacket off of him carefully.

"Of course," Stephen said quickly, "As you know, I'm always willing to lend a hand, though..." Stephen trailed off and stroked his goatee. Tony frowned at him.

"I'm a neurosurgeon now, Tony, I haven't done this sort of work in _years_ ," Stephen protested and Tony scoffed.

"I'm sure it's just like riding a bike. Stephen, come on, it's me. And he really needs your help." Tony gestured to Steve. The wound was bad, but it was only the first of many, and the thing that needed the most priority of Strange fixing it up. It was a debris wound, something crumbled; the wound was vivid purple around a deep gash that went from shoulder to elbow.

It wasn't very deep, at least not in Tony's estimation, but it'd definitely need some healing time and stitches and hopefully, that was all. Stephen studied the wound for a few moments and sighed heavily. "This man should be in a hospital, Tony," Stephen chided, but he grabbed his doctor's bag anyways and began to clean the wound with antiseptic.

It took the better part of the rest of the day for Stephen to get them fixed up, he even called off of work to do it, though he scolded Tony the entire time and said that he would be billing them for this. Especially when Stephen had to go through some illegal channels in order to procure blood to replenish the amount that Steve had lost. Tony thought it was a small price to pay, overall. In addition to Steve's stitches, there were ribs to be taped, sprains to be wrapped, and pain pills to be prescribed. As well as other cuts and wounds to be treated.

Stephen kicked them all out as soon as he was done and told Steve to come back in a few weeks so that he could look at the stitches. Clint was in a sling with a heavily sprained wrist, and Tony had to have an ankle wrapped, though with the swelling, Stephen had suggested x-rays. Tony would do it later.

"Let's go home," Tony said to Steve and he nodded.

"To the Captain Cave," Steve announced dryly, still sounding incredibly weak. Tony had Steve's keys and he slid in to the driver's seat of the navy blue Aztek that Steve had insisted on keeping.

"I told you not to call it that," Clint said with a frown. "And pharmacy first, then home."

* * *

The prison guard buzzed Red Skull in, who was wearing a well designed mask to cover the exact nature of his face. He signed in as Jovan Shani and was there to see Obadiah Stane. The man was in prison, after all, and Red Skull did feel as though he owed the man something. Besides, with Ezekial Enterprises a subsidiary and not exactly listed under Obadiah Stane's assets, Red Skull also knew there was still money in it for him.

After all, he knew that Stane was well prepared to make sure Stark, as well as his hero companions, paid for the things that had happened to Stane. On all the news networks, the story was breaking. The illegal weapons deals, the thieving, the real reasons Stark International technology had been being set off... and all of it was pointing to Obadiah Stane as the culprit. Stane's original grudge, which had been a petty complaint about being second best, was now trumped by a very real reason to hate Stark.

And Red Skull had a reason to hate Stark too... and it began with this mask and what lay beneath it. Orange was not Obadiah's color, the Skull noted, he slid in to the hard metal chair and picked up the plastic phone and nodded to Obadiah. The man paid well, so Red Skull wasn't going to judge him too harshly. After all, he could pretend to be sympathetic as well. Obadiah glanced to the guard, who nodded, and then turned a blind eye. Where it was true that not everyone had a price, there was a good reason why bribery worked... most people did.

"I want his _head_ , Shmidt," Obadiah hissed in to the phone. "I will pay you handsomely, just bring me word that Stark has met his unfortunate end." Red Skull nodded a little and if he could smile, he would have. That was a good enough reason to kill Stark, the fact he couldn't. And The Captain for taking Stark's side, though he was just as much a villain. Like before, Hawkeye was just collateral damage. He would pay for the price of the company he kept, however.

"Do not worry, Mr. Stane, I'm sure I can deliver what you ask for," Red Skull assured him. "I have never failed you before." There wasn't much more to be said and so Red Skull bid his goodbyes and received a message from his bank that he'd already received half of the money transfer that would ensure his adherence to killing those victims for the rest of the money.

On his way out, Red Skull received a call, from a curious man named Mandarin, whose English was heavily accented, who requested that he meet him in a secret location later that evening. Red Skull was cautious, but curious, and he agreed.

It was dark outside when Red Skull arrived, the address having led him to the harbor, amid freight containers that were rusting and stacked high... almost making a labyrinth out of the dock. The man who met him there had long dark hair, flowing green robes, and his fingers were adorned with many rings, glittering on each finger.

He was holding a manila folder and he handed it over to Red Skull. There wasn't much inside, just a sketched, unfinished drawing of some sort of battle suit, Stark's initials in the corner of the page. Red Skull thought he recognized one of the men with him, but couldn't place it, so he pushed it out of his mind.

"Mr. Shmidt," The man said, his tone formal, "My associate Mr. Stane said that he had quite the success with your exploits and I was wondering if I might hire you for something."

"Who are you?" Red Skull asked, suspicious by necessity, this could be a trap.

"As I told you on the phone, I am the Mandarin. I am the leader of an organization called the Ten Rings." The Mandarin wiggled his fingers, and the rings glinted dully in the dim light. Red Skull nodded a little and gestured for him to go on.

"These designs, they are simply called Mark Two. They are new designs by Tony Stark and I believe they may be a weapon he is intending to roll out soon. I wanted him to build me a weapon and he failed to do so, so now I wish to take the one he is building now." Mandarin gestured to the folder that Red Skull was holding. "To that end, I will pay you a sum of one million American dollars if you were to retrieve the complete designs of this for me."

He was going to kill Stark anyways. He might as well make as much on the deal as he could. Red Skull nodded in agreement and studied the sketch once more.

"Of course, I require half of it up front," Red Skull said, his tone not leaving room for negotiation. Mandarin was thoughtful for several long moments, frowning, but then he nodded as well.

"Because Mr. Stane speaks so highly of you, I will concede to your terms. I would like these designs as soon as possible. Do not disappoint me, Mr. Shmidt," Mandarin said. Red Skull closed the folder and handed it back.

"I won't."

* * *

It was close to four in the morning when Steve came in from his nightly patrol. He couldn't do as much as he wanted to. The stitches had been removed, but the pain that jolted through his arm from time to time when he pulled the freshly scarred skin could sometimes bring him to tears. But he was also a strong believer in active recoveries. One didn't take a break from weight lifting if their muscles burned the next day, they just kept making them stronger. Steve had learned early on that being injured didn't necessarily mean one was exempt from working. There was a purpose to The Captain, one he didn't feel compelled to just let fall to the wayside, and as soon as his stitches had come out, he'd come back out on the streets to continue protecting the people he had chosen to protect.

He skipped out on pain medications so he was level-headed out on the streets. He didn't like taking them in general because of the way that they fuzzed up his mind and made it difficult to wake in the morning, or concentrate on his day job... where the pills had blurred his mind out to where he'd stare at a design for hours without making any progress on it. He needed them less and less, in the months that had followed the initial injury, but after a patrol like _tonight_ he definitely needed them.

He rustled around in the kitchen and took the pain pills with a glass of milk and leaned against the counter while he waited for them to kick in. He closed his eyes a little and considered a hot shower to get rid of some of the lingering aches, to relax him more before the pills began to work. He glanced at the clock on the microwave; he had chosen to work a late shift tomorrow, so he wouldn't need to wake for another ten hours at least. If he showered now, he could sleep even later.

He heard the door open and then close and he slit his eyes open, though he was unworried. Clint had decided to stay out and patrol the perimeter once more before coming home and he pushed off from the counter. "I'm going-" He started to say, but stopped when he saw it was Tony in the entryway. He was in a pair of torn jeans and a grease stained ribbed tank-top with holes cut out for the reactor. He was lighting up the hall all by himself- reactor and blazing amber eyes and bright smile.

"I want to show you something," Tony told him, linking his fingers around Steve's wrist and leading him outside to the car. The drive to Stark International didn't take long, and Steve followed Tony down corridors he'd never been, to an elevator he'd never seen, with buttons to sublevels that weren't on other elevators he'd been in to. Down below, Sub Level 2 according to the elevator, opened up in to a bleak grey building with computers and glass containers lining the walls.

They walked down a small set of stairs that led to a lower level in the room.

"My father put this in during the Cold War," Tony explained, turning to look at Steve for a moment, "And I repurposed it, when I initially came to New York in order to deal with..." He waved a hand vaguely, as though to indicate everything that had happened since he'd come here. Steve thought that was an apt way to sum it all up, really, and his arm ached just from the thought of it. Tony kept hold of Steve's wrist and led him over to the only filled glass case, which housed a gleaming red and gold... robot?

"You built a robot in a secret underground lab?" Steve sounded honestly confused. Tony's annoyed huff was familiar to Steve by now, though in this case, Steve wasn't sure it was technically appropriate. "You know, Dr. Ivo, I don't have any superpowers, so you might have wanted to grab The Human Torch, instead." Tony gave him a bewildered look.

"Never mind," Steve said, shaking his head. Tony frowned at him.

"It isn't a _robot_ ," Tony finally said, "It's the Iron Man. I built a very primitive version of it to escape from captivity. When I got back, and people started stealing my weapons designs, I put it away in a vault. Now that we've fixed that problem, I started back up on it and ran it through a few tests and... it's complete." Tony beamed and Steve looked between the suit and Tony.

"I want to be a hero, like you and Clint. This way, we can all work together, and I'll be able to help," Tony explained. Steve had been worried about Tony fighting with them (though trying to forbid it had gone over like a lead balloon) when he'd been armored the same way he and Clint were, using similar weaponry. It hadn't seemed right. But this...

"I know this sort of thing wouldn't fit either of your guys' fighting styles, so I didn't make one for you but for me, this is how I can help." Tony looked steadily at Steve and Steve continued to look between Tony and the armor and back again.

"Tony," Steve started but Tony waved his hands and interrupted.

"I can fly, okay, I'm like Superman. Except my laser beams come from my hands and not my eyes. And technically they're not laser beams, rather a deviation from Newtonian physics-"

"You can fly," Steve interrupted, his tone flat. Tony nodded eagerly. Steve looked between Tony and the suit once more.

"I can't tell you no. And at least this seems safer." Steve held a hand out to Tony and gave him a small smile. Tony blinked and took his hand. "Welcome to the team." Steve grinned and then let go, pulling Tony in to a hug.

"I feel better if I can be out there protecting you," Tony said quietly, his voice muffled in to Steve's shoulder. "I can make a difference this way. I can make up for... try to make up for... everything." He shook his head against Steve and Steve frowned a little and patted at him soothingly.

"I know I can't make up for everything-"

"Shh, Tony, it's okay," Steve interrupted and curled his fingers in to the hairs at the nape of Tony's neck. Tony shook his head a little again, but he stopped speaking, and he wasn't shaking anymore. Steve rubbed his other hand down the line of his spine, over the cloth of the tank top.

"I promise we'll do good this way," Tony started up again, once he pulled away. "I promise."

Steve wished he knew how to comfort Tony more than he was doing right now. But Tony was more difficult to read than other people were, so he wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. He had seemed to settle a little more, which was certainly a plus, as far as everything went. Steve kept stroking at Tony's back and he laced their fingers together, leading Tony towards the stairs.

"Yeah, Tony," Steve agreed as they headed upstairs, Steve pushing Tony ahead of him, "We'll do good this way." Steve smiled and reached out to stop Tony. With Tony on the step higher than Steve was, their heights almost evened out, so Steve only had to arch his neck a little to kiss Tony. Tony looked a little surprised at the act, but Steve just pulled him a little closer, fingers curling in to the tank top he was wearing. Tony pulled back after several moments, eyes bright like he'd just been offered the entire candy store. He hurried Steve up the remainder of the stairs and in to the elevator.

He was introduced to a penthouse he'd never been to either, where Tony apparently had been staying, and more importantly, to the bedroom there.

Steve woke up late, but Tony wore his Iron Man suit when they went to pick Clint up the following afternoon. Steve got in to his costume and they forced Clint in to his own as well. Introductions were made, thought not really, it was only Tony letting Clint know who he was, to prevent any sort of secrecy becoming a problem between the three of them. They were going to be a team now.

"We're going to need a name," Steve pointed out as he affixed his mask and Iron Man drummed his metal fingers on the tabletop.

"Iron Man and his two sidekicks?" He suggested innocently. Clint snorted and Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head emphatically, almost immediately. He was sure Iron Man was pouting behind the faceplate, though if he was, he made no real outward indication of it.

"How about the Terrific Trio?" Clint asked and Steve huffed a little more and Iron Man's laughter echoed metallically behind the faceplate.

"Right, because we won't immediately be called rip-offs, as far as nomenclature goes, since the Fantastic Four has been active recently," Tony pointed out. Steve shook his head.

"Let's not rush in to this impulsively," Steve cautioned, "We have time to think of some things, we should get used to being a team before we rush in to naming it. Not that I don't think we'll work out, just getting to know how we work together might breed some creativity."

"Look at who is Mr. Rational over here," Clint said, rolling his eyes, and Tony laughed again.

"I want to show you guys something," Tony said after a moment. He took them to the old Stark Mansion, a large brownstone building that had been repurposed in to one large family home.

"I figured this could be our new headquarters," Iron Man said, his voice modulated through the helmet in a way that annoyed Steve. Clint and him already knew who was in the suit, so he saw no reason for there to be secrecy when they were in their own base. He could have at least put the helmet up. "I put an armor lab in, training rooms, bed rooms, and enough places to where we can expand our roster if we need to. I've been working on it since that fight against... Stane."

"Why are you wearing your helmet?" Steve asked, irritability creeping in to his tone. Clint stifled laughter behind his hand, and Steve resisted the urge to glare at him.

"Same reason you're still wearing your cloth mask... I just like being my alter ego. Besides, the helmet is cool." Tony popped the faceplate up and then linked his gauntleted hand with Steve's. Steve frowned at him, but he really couldn't stay mad when Tony was being sweet. He curled his fingers with Iron Man's and looked around the new hideout.

"It's certainly better than using Clint's apartment," Steve said after a moment, "And a training room will be nice for when we want to practice our tactics." Steve nodded in approval and Clint sighed a little, sinking down in to one of the plush chairs situated in front of a fireplace.

"I'm still working out all the kinks, but I did install JARVIS in here, so it won't be as bad as it otherwise would have been." Tony sat down on the couch and it creaked under the weight of the armor. Steve let go of Iron Man's hand and wisely chose to sit in a different chair, watching the way the couch bowed under Tony's not-insignificant weight.

From there, it was business as usual... sort of. Tony moved the headquarters of Stark International back to New York and had Pepper and Happy flown in to resume their duties as usual. The news reports had officially cleared Stark International's involvement in the weapons testing that had claimed innocent lives, though Tony was still paying compensation to the families, as an act of good will. Steve was worried, of course, that Red Skull's body had never been recovered, but the weapon had been undamaged, when they'd gone back to grab it after finishing up at Strange's house. The Captain, Iron Man, and Hawkeye were more in the public eye... assisting the Fantastic Four on one occasion, but mainly dealing with their own, more urban issues.

A particularly well-televised fight garnered more attention than normal, a band of thugs calling themselves the Wrecking Crew had begun to cause problems. They'd tangled with them once or twice before but a huge fight broke out on the docks, which had caused significant damage to them. Tony had covered the costs, though the shareholders hadn't been entirely happy about it.

A quiet evening in, several weeks after that fight, was just what the doctor ordered. Steve was doing world's better and things with Tony had settled in to a rather comfortable sort of rhythm. Clint pretended not to notice and Tony seemed reticent to make a real commitment; but then, Tony wasn't being exposed in news articles about his newest fling all the time either... so Steve took victories where he could get them. Not out, but exclusive, and for now, Steve could live with that.

"I'm thinking about making some changes to the mansion," Tony announced as he joined Clint and Steve in the living room.

"I think the first thing I'd do is upgrade your security system," A voice from behind them said. Steve turned quickly and a man wearing all black, a long leather trench coat, and an eyepatch strolled in to the room. His head was shaved and there were just the faintest traces of a scar above and below the patch. "I'm Colonel Nick Fury. I'm the Director of a group called S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I've never heard of a group called that," Clint interrupted, but Steve nodded.

"I have," Steve said, he hadn't been a member, but he'd worked with a few of them when he'd returned from Afghanistan, before his tour of duty had officially ended. "They work for the government." Steve clarified, since he was sure Colonel Fury's cloak and dagger presence was putting Clint on edge. Probably Tony too.

"Me too," Tony said cheerfully, "They debriefed me when I returned from Afghanistan." He waggled his brows suggestively and Steve shook his head at him while Clint rolled his eyes. Fury chuckled, but it was a little... fake. Fury strolled forward, not making a sound as he stepped across the carpet.

"Saw your work on the docks," Fury said, "And we thought that it might be time for you three to step up your game a little." Fury nodded to them. Steve tilted his head to the side in confusion and stepped in front of Tony and Clint, he was generally the voice of the team, as far as news segments and such went anyways.

"I want to talk to you three about the Avenger Initiative," Fury said and he pulled a folder out from the inner pockets of his jacket. Tony Steve was intrigued and he moved forward to take the folder and Fury made a face that could have been a smile... or a grimace.

The cover page was simple enough. _Avenger Initiative; Superhero Defense Force._ Steve closed the folder and smiled at Fury.

"Well, Colonel, I think we'd be very interested in what you have to say."


End file.
